Coach Granger
by Luan Mao
Summary: A superstar needs help to reach his potential. Not H-Hr ship.
1. Chapter 1

Put a disclaimer here.

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Put a disclaimer here.

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_sigh_ Simon says put a disclaimer here.

Harry Potter and other recognized persons, places, and things are not mine.

**Author's note**: This story takes place during Hermione's sixth year at Hogwarts, but events are slightly AU before the story begins and then get more AU as it progresses. I wouldn't think it necessary to say that a fanfic is AU, but I have gotten a lot of complaints lately about events that do not follow canon.

**Coach Granger**

"Harry, I've been doing some thinking." Hermione had not seen Harry over the summer and yesterday had been too busy with performing both her prefect duties and Ron's on the train and at the Welcoming Feast. She was glad he'd come down early this morning so she could have a quiet word.

"Gee, there's a surprise. What was it today, the E equals MC squared of magic or thinking up a way to stomp Voldemort into a greasy stain?"

"The latter."

"Uh, Hermione, that was a joke."

"I'm serious, Harry. We, the decent, non-prejudiced part of the magical world, need to defeat not only Voldemort but his Death Eaters, as well as his unmarked followers. Changing the political and social structure which gives rise to Dark Lords is a longer-term goal but no less important."

"Er, that sounds like a tall order. Can I just work on the first part and let someone else take the rest?"

"I'm glad you asked. Would you be interested in training to fight? This would be something like last year's DA. Rather, the mirror image of the DA, with the difference being that I and perhaps others would be training you rather than you training everyone else."

Harry frowned. "Do you think you'd be able to train me enough? And do you think it's the right thing to do? Dumbledore told me last night – he called me up after the feast, did you notice? – he told me that he'll be giving me special lessons. But they'll be up in his office, so it can't be super-powered spells or fighting practice. But Dumbledore has to have the right plan, right? Although he's never taught me anything more than anyone else gets or had anyone else teach me. Except for Snape and his Occlumency 'lessons', and you know how well that worked. And last night he said the key to defeating Voldemort is to _understand_ him. It doesn't make sense, but it's Dumbledore, you know? He has to have a plan, right?"

"Regardless of any other special lessons you might receive, spell-casting practice can only help you, Harry. I suggest we discuss long-term plans later. For now, are you willing to train to fight? I will keep up and work with you to the best of my ability but we both know that, in terms of power and practical application, you far exceed my skills. Most of my assistance will be as coach."

"Whatever you think best, Hermione. You've always been the brains of our group." The two exchanged warm smiles. Best friends forever.

**...ooo000ooo...**

Hermione was pleased to see Harry drag himself to the seventh floor five minutes before the designated start time despite the beastly hour and despite the argument with the Weasleys which lasted until she and the Seventh Year prefects came down to the common room to break it up. She didn't _really_ know a hex to remove his bits and store them in a jar, but she had no intention of telling him that. Nor that she would never use it on him even if she did know one. From a simple biological perspective the wizarding world needed Harry to have children. Many children, ideally by many mothers. Hermione hypothesized that inbreeding had led to the spread of an undesirable mutation within the magical population, a mutation which made people unable to use deductive logic or other critical thinking. She wasn't sure how to test her hypothesis, though news from America of improvements in DNA sequencing gave one possible approach. But that was for the future.

"Good morning, Harry. I hope you're ready for an hour of pain." Hermione had read up on coaching and training and motivational speaking. She'd decided that pushing him until he collapsed would be the best approach to start with. She wasn't worried that Harry would drop out after the first day. He'd promised to do everything she told him for at least two weeks and he would never break a promise to her, even if he didn't think she'd hex his bits into a jar.

"For future reference, think of 'Hermione's Combat Training Room' if you want to use the Room when I'm not here." She led Harry into a large room with dummies and targets all around. "I have bonded with Winky and am having her stay inside to keep the Room locked in this configuration when we're not here. Yes, we'll talk about that later." She needed Winky and the elf had refused to be shamed by being a mere hireling. Compromising on her moral stance regarding slavery had been one of Hermione's more difficult decisions. However, if she was going to train Harry to fight to kill, her sacrifice was tiny by comparison. And it made Winky so happy, though the properly-trained little elf almost immediately started nagging her new mistress to marry into a pureblood family.

Winky went off to do whatever house elves did when their mistresses did not need them while Harry and Hermione did a few warmup exercises to knock the dust off their wands after a magic-free summer and then went down to the middle of the targets and dummies and began power blasting. The plan was for them to tire themselves out and then work on precise control of whatever power they had left. One book said this was the most effective way, outside of forbidden rituals, to increase power and control at the same time. Most wizards didn't put themselves through this because it was too much work and too much pain for something most didn't need. But of course most wizards didn't have a kill-or-be-killed relationship with a Dark Lord.

Although she was focusing on her own efforts, Hermione couldn't help but note that Harry's blasting spells were knocking large chunks out of his dummies while her own were merely digging little divots. Focusing her attention more intensely, Hermione concentrated on precision in her wand movements and verbalization and pushed every bit of intent she could out her wand. The result was … a slightly larger divot. Frowning, she continued for another few minutes before she simply didn't have the magical strength for another blasting hex.

After Harry collapsed a few minutes later — he'd done ten minutes of full-power spells followed by ten minutes of ever-weaker precision hexes — Hermione began the second portion of the day's training. Looking on the bright side, she'd always expected that Harry would be carrying the heavy load. It was encouraging to see just how heavy a load he could carry.

"Each day as you stretch, cool down, and refill your magical reserves, I plan to review theory, discuss tactics, go over pertinent history, and so on. I know you don't much care for lessons other than practical, hands-on casting, but it is important. Also, because you promised me only one hour for training each morning, if you want less lecture you'll have to build up your magical reserves so you can use more of the hour casting spells." Harry gave her a weak smile, all he was capable of at the moment.

"Today I will outline my reasons for training you to defeat Voldemort. This is a discussion, not a lecture, so feel free to ask questions at any time. After you catch your breath, of course.

"If you look back at everything I've seen and everything you've told me about your life, you will see a few unifying themes. An obvious one is Voldemort, of course. But even more important is Dumbledore. He left you with the Dursleys, ensuring that you would grow up not only ignorant of your heritage but unloved and abused and he sends you back there every summer.

"I'm sorry, Harry. I don't mean to offend or hurt you, but this needs to be said. And be warned, it may get worse.

"Dumbledore allows Snape — and, yes, I omitted 'Professor' — to be an unprofessional bastard. And, yes, I know what I said and I know what you're about to say, so don't bother saying 'Language, Hermione!' Any other accurate term I could have chosen would have been harsher. And of course he's especially biased against you. Dumbledore and McGonagall never do anything to reign Snape in. The same goes for the abuse you take from other students, especially Malfoy. Dumbledore didn't make any announcement on your behalf when most of the school thought you were a cheater in the Triwizard Tournament. Neither Dumbledore nor McGonagall did a single thing to rein in Umbridge's reign of terror last year, nor even do or say anything about the lies printed in the _Daily Prophet_."

Harry didn't look very pleased to hear his life dissected but he wasn't arguing with her.

"Combine this with his knowledge of the prophecy since before you were born and his failure to provide any extra training for the past five years – and, no, those so-called Occlumency lessons last Winter don't count – and the only conclusion I can draw is that Dumbledore does not expect you to beat Voldemort by skill. Instead, he's toughening you up. He thinks you need to kill Voldemort and somehow being tough enough to keep going when the whole world is against you is a key to it. If that analysis is correct, I don't know how he expects you to succeed. If that analysis is incorrect, I don't know why he isn't teaching you the skills you'll need to win. Either way, for now I'll assume he has a plan and will give you special instruction before long. The other alternative is that Dumbledore is incompetent. I don't think that he's simply incompetent, because of his enviable record of accomplishments, but it's possible that he's gone senile.

"If it comes down to demanding lessons from Dumbledore, you do have one powerful advantage: If the prophecy is true, then they need you much more than you need them. If you use that wisely, you should be able to get a great many concessions this year.

"As for my reasons for helping you, an important one is, of course, our friendship." Harry smiled through the pain of an abdominal cramp and held a hand on her arm. She noticed but didn't mention the grubby sweat stain he left. "But just as importantly, I am now officially a target of the Death Eaters. Thanks to the articles in the _Prophet_, it's well known that I, Hermione Granger, fought Death Eaters last June. Now I'm more than that Muggleborn girl who does well in classes and is Harry Potter's friend. Now I'm the only Muggleborn who fought the Death Eaters, as the _Prophet_ so kindly emphasized.

"Daddy and Mum were furious when they found out, of course. They withdrew me from Hogwarts and we travelled to the States to look at schooling there. That's why I wasn't able to contact you all summer, although from what Ron and Ginny told me it wouldn't have made any difference if I had been here because Dumbledore isolated you again.

"But then, after we found a school and an apartment and friends, the Ministry and Dumbledore reached out and hauled me back. Even after I'm an adult by their laws I can't leave Hogwarts. Dumbledore and the Ministry of Magic are as big a threat to me as Voldemort and his Death Eaters ever were. Voldemort and his followers are a more immediate threat, however, and so we should focus on them."

"And finally, I'm taking the time to coach you, and got your promise to work with me, because, frankly, you lack the motivation and self-discipline to do it on your own. I will attempt to focus your motivation and I will discipline you as I deem necessary."

Hermione's voice caught in her throat and both teens blushed bright red at her last words.

"Ahem. I think that's enough for today. Let's decamp to the dorm and get ready for breakfast."

**...ooo000ooo...**

Training continued daily at the crack of pre-dawn. Hermione focused on training Harry to fight hard, fight fast, and fight dirty. That was his greatest need at the moment and that would have the fastest pay-off for time spent. She was training him to survive an ambush, whether by a group of Death Eaters or here in Hogwarts by the Slytherin quidditch team. Not that there was much difference between those groups, which took her right back to Dumbledore's ineffectuality and the reason she was getting up well before dawn every day to prepare training plans and to coach Harry.

"Keep going with the bone breakers, Harry." As was the case every day, Hermione could keep up the attack spells less than a quarter as long as Harry could. She still put in the effort every morning, but it was increasingly obvious that her primary role was as coach, not fighter. It was in any event convenient that Harry could outlast her so dramatically: she had time to catch her breath and get a drink of water before he started getting tired and needing encouragement. "Move it, Potter! You can squeeze out another dozen, and dodge to the side after each one. Push as hard as you can. See if you can make those bones explode." The Room of Requirement was very accommodating in providing training materials. Case in point, it gave Harry an unlimited number of pig carcasses to slice, batter, and explode. Hermione reflected that soon she should ask it to provide human corpses, or realistic facsimiles, so Harry would not be disturbed when he had to slice off an opponent's head.

Dolohov had opened Hermione's eyes. Four months ago she would have vigorously worked to keep Harry from using anything harsher than a stunner. She had bought thoroughly into the commonly blatted wisdom about mercy to your enemies, not sinking to their level, allowing them a chance to redeem themselves.

Last June, she had seen the hate in Dolohov's eyes, heard it in his words, felt it when her torso was sliced almost in half. Give him a second chance? He'd use it only to take another shot at her. No, when it came to Death Eaters, just kill them all and let their souls find their proper place. _Neca eos omnes. Deus suos agnoscet._ Arnaud-Amaury might not be the best role model for a teenage girl, but this was war.

"Good, Harry! Now another dozen, and this time control the power so they just break the bone. Don't explode the bones and you don't want them to break through the skin."

The physical and magical portion of every day's training varied: speed in getting a curse out, memorizing chains of spells, pinpoint accuracy, shielding, dodging, dodging and shooting at the same time, hitting a moving target, shielding in one direction while attacking in another. The list was endless, but every day included power, power, power. It was clear even from the beginning that Harry was a powerhouse. Who knew? Maybe "the power he knows not" was sheer battering force, simplistic though that interpretation was.

The "schoolwork" portion of the training was just as varied. Learning to identify spells by color or speed or a fragment of the incantation. Learning the best shield for different spells and the best "cracker" for each shield. The history of Voldemort's first rise, his tactics, and the biographies and styles of his Death Eaters. Politics and finance and wizarding culture as they affected Voldemort's second rise.

Hermione had to make up the training regimen from scratch. Flourish and Blotts didn't carry many duelling manuals and the Hogwarts library had none. The few which Hermione had found all concentrated on the rules of the arena and a handful of tricks useless in a life-or-death fight. Flitwick had been no use, telling her that Dumbledore had made it clear that there were to be no more duelling clubs and no duelling training in school. The mess that Lockhart and Snape had made four years ago had poisoned that well. The only somewhat useful thing Flitwick had to offer was the observation that most of the education in duelling came from apprenticeships or the school of hard knocks. Hermione deduced that skilled duellists didn't write useful books partly because the market was too small to make the book royalties worth the effort of writing a book and partly to avoid giving an edge to potential opponents. Auror, hit wizard, and magical soldier manuals either didn't exist or were not available for sale to ordinary magical subjects, or at least not to filthy mudbloods.

Hermione was sure there is a better way to learn all this. Auror training supposedly took three years, but that probably included on-the-job training or rookie year or whatever they called it. It seemed implausible that the ministry was willing to pay trainees to go to school for three years before getting the first day's real work out of them. On the other hand, this was the Ministry of Magic. Now that she thought about it, it seemed quite likely that tax money collected from everyone would be used to pay young purebloods from the right families for three years. On the other, other hand, a nation would fall to invaders if it took months or years to train magical soldiers for combat.

Harry got up to the training room on time every morning. He performed all of the drills with no more than a few good-natured complaints, and he was attentive during the lecture after the workout. And every day as they walked back to the dorms he'd say some variant of, "Thank you so much, Hermione. You're the only one in the world who's helping me." Even if her own safety weren't on the line, Harry's sincere appreciation would make all this worthwhile.

But that was of course the point of all this. Her own safety _was_ on the line. She had tried to run away, then once she was dragged back she set out to turn Harry into the sword and shield which would keep her safe. Hermione felt guilty about accepting Harry's thanks and redoubled her efforts to train him up to his potential. She was already reaching the point of diminishing returns in increasing her own power level. She would continue to train every day — she hurt all the time but she would accept that because she was the reason that Harry was going through the same thing — but she wasn't going to be able to defeat Death Eaters by herself.

"Hermione, I've been thinking."

"I'm glad to hear it, though you owe me royalties for stealing my line."

"Half of your job as my coach is to keep me motivated, right? The other half, doing the research and putting together the training schedule, you're doing great. I couldn't ask for a better coach. But the motivation, don't you think you could work a little harder on that?"

Hermione felt the tiny frisson of resentment that came every time her efforts were questioned or criticized but she tamped it down with the ease of long experience. Besides, she was making this up as she went and Harry could well have a legitimate criticism or suggestion. "What did you have in mind? I'm doing the best that I can but I'm as new at this as you are."

"I think that it would be easier to get up to the training room so early every morning if I had something to look forward to. Like, say, a pretty girl in a bikini."

"Boys! Purely for the sake of discussion, whom did you have in mind? Oh. Well, thank you, Harry. I do appreciate the compliment but I don't think it's a good idea. I don't want to lead you on when I can't really see us together that way. This time last year, certainly, but since this past summer I, ah…. Let's just say you're too boyish for my present tastes. That's in addition to the hazard of distraction when you are casting full-power, destructive spells." Despite her dismissive words, Hermione was very flattered at Harry's praise. She felt she was being nothing but honest with herself when she rated her figure as "adequate" and her face as "mostly not too bad". Despite the impression she had made at last year's Yule Ball, she didn't have a line of Hogwarts boys asking her out. That was one reason she had been so glad to make a friend, a special friend, so quickly over the summer. It had done her self-esteem a world of good and helped her to deal with all the stress of the past year.

"Aw, does that mean you won't even consider my idea for a dominatrix outfit when you're cracking the whip? Ouch! Really, that's a good point about distraction. At this morning's practice, near the end of my first set, you were all sweaty and your clothes were sticking to you and, ah, did you notice I completely exploded that one pig? Problem was, it was the wrong pig. I saw your wet, sweaty, sticky shirt and really blasted. We're just lucky I hit another pig and not Winky or my foot."

Harry was blushing bright. Fortunately, he didn't see her blushing as well. She could only think, Thank God I wore a bra this morning.

"So, do you think you could wear a sweatshirt on top of your T-shirt? Or else go all in and wear the bikini. Either is okay with me."

**...ooo000ooo...**

Life at Hogwarts continued as expected. In terms of classwork, NEWT classes weren't much harder for Hermione than OWL-level classes. She'd brewed a NEWT-level potion when she was thirteen, after all, and over the course of the previous year had built an encyclopedic knowledge of curses, hexes, and shields. The amount of homework, however, was daunting even for her. And, to her dismay, Hermione began to find that her ability to perform the more advanced spells didn't come near to matching her theoretical knowledge. Her practical skills were easily within the NEWT range, but not up in the "phenomenal" range she'd dreamed of. Nor even enough to stand by Harry in a fight.

What was different this year from last was the behavior of certain members of the student body, with "certain members" being a pretty euphemism for "children of Death Eaters". About half of the older Slytherin boys, in particular, swaggered around the school like they owned the place. _Mudblood_ became the most common word used by certain students. "Now that the Dark Lord has returned, Mudbloods will learn their place." Dumbledore did nothing to stop them, of course. Nor did any of the teachers, so long as the harassment didn't take place right under their noses and they could pretend they hadn't heard anything.

"Move, stupid firsties! Don't you know to get out of the way of your betters?" Malfoy had been more full of himself than usual all year, even more so than his classmates. More full of himself than he should have been, considering that his father had been arrested in Death Eater garb a few months before. Today, he and Lump1 and Lump2 were marching side-by-side down the hallway, leaving no room for anyone to fit by.

Hermione's glare, honed by a year as a prefect in an unruly house, caused Lump1 to shift aside before he would have plowed into her. Lump1 bumped into Malfoy, who bumped into Lump2, who sent a firstie flying.

"Mister Crabbe! What are you doing, bullying a younger student like that? Five points from Slytherin." Hermione knew that taking points from a Slytherin was pointless, as Snape would reverse deductions by any other house's prefects, but she was showing the younger students how it was _supposed_ to work.

"Oh, yah? Well, I'm taking ten points from you for being an uppity Mudblood, Gra–" Whatever Malfoy had been about to say was lost as a stinging hex came out of nowhere to hit him on the mouth. The next few moments had a flurry of the nearly-invisible hex peppering the three bullies until they retreated in disorder.

Hermione took Harry to task in the break after the next class. "Harry, I appreciate the back-up earlier today, but you should hide your skills until you need them. Today, Malfoy was just being his usual ass self. It wasn't important enough to let the secret out. Ah, you have kept our training quiet, haven't you?"

"Yah, I've kept it quiet. Who would I tell? Ron and Ginny cut me off again over the summer. From what you say, it was Dumbledore's orders, but you know? I don't care. They came with me last June, so if they ever really need help I'll help them, but they're not my friends anymore. I don't really trust them any more. Neville's been avoiding me, I don't know why. And Luna … ah, have you noticed, she's, ah, loonier than she used to be? I tried telling Flitwick, but he blew me off. He said that if there was a serious problem, as head of house he'd know. I was thinking of writing a letter to her father, but everyone says he's crazier than she is. I don't know what to do. I want to help her or at least see if she needs help, but I don't know how. Anyway, I can't tell her anything private. Who knows what she'd do with it?"

"I'll see if I can think of something to do for Luna, Harry. Neville sometimes talks to me, though he's even shyer than he used to be. I'll ask him – gently! – if he's upset with you.

"But aside from a lack of anyone to tell, do you agree that you need to keep your training secret and that you should not reveal your new abilities?"

"Yes, Hermione. I mean, Yes, Coach. But don't worry. Before I plinked the pinheads, I disillusioned myself, then shot from behind a suit of armor. No one saw me."

Satisfied, Hermione let it drop. "Excellent, Harry. That's all I ask. Shall we get started on homework? It's still an hour until dinner." Homework for the Nastily Exhausting courses was piling up already. With Harry's quidditch captaincy, her correspondence courses in history and creative writing, her prefect duties, and, of course, their extra training, they were busy every waking minute of every long day. Hermione thought seriously about turning in her prefect's badge, especially when waking up very early after an evening patrol, but for now the privileges were worth the time and effort the position required.

Malfoy continued his aggressive idiocy. An article in the _Prophet_ explained it: one of Fudge's last acts before being removed from office was to lead the trial of the Death Eaters who'd been caught in the ministry last June. They'd spent barely a week in Azkaban and were now walking around free. It had been determined by Fudge, in his role as interrogator, that there was nothing to charge them with but trespassing, and if the adults were charged, then so must the students and Dumbledore's Order be. A clear majority of the Wizengamot – notably including several members whom Hermione recognized as having Death Eaters in their families – agreed to the dismissal of all charges against the eleven who'd been in custody. Strangely, even those who'd escaped from Azkaban had all charges dismissed. Why this hadn't been mentioned months ago was anyone's guess. Corruption on top of incompetence, was Hermione's guess.

Harry wasn't happy when he saw the article. Nor was he surprised. "We already talked about not using stunners when I'm fighting more than one enemy. I think we need to plan on never using stunners even against only one. And you had already figured that you wanted to look at reforming the ministry and everything after I beat Voldemort. Do you still want to do that, or is this too much? Do you want to just leave after? Or even, do you want to leave now? Leave all these idiots to Voldemort? I would go with you if you wanted. Except for you, I don't have anything keeping me here."

"Oh, Harry, I do love you, too. If only… But I can't leave. I told you at the beginning of the school year but perhaps I didn't make it clear. _I can't leave Hogwarts._ Dumbledore told me that the magical world needs you to have ties to us – to _them_ – but that due to 'mistakes' you had lost all of your ties. He 'regretted the necessity', but 'sacrifices must be made' for the 'greater good' to give you ties to Wizarding Britain. He then took some of my blood and set wards. I can be away from the school only about eight hours at a time before my blood starts to heat. The train ride up was just barely inside the limit."

Harry's lips were a white line. "Tell me, Hermione. What is a Dark Lord? And are we sure Voldemort is the Dark Lord I'm supposed to kill?"

Hermione could have pointed out that, to her knowledge, Dumbledore did not delight in torturing people. But the psychological tortures he had condoned had damaged Harry as much as any Cruciatus curse. Dumbledore professed to be working for the good of all, but that might not be a distinction, either. Who knows what Voldemort's – Tom Riddle's – goal had been before he went insane and started killing people? Dumbledore, by contrast, was insane in his refusal to allow killing. His lofty-minded ideals led to more deaths and suffering.

"I don't think Dumbledore is evil. I don't think he is."

"I didn't say evil, Hermione. The prophecy mentioned a Dark Lord. If we believe it and the old fraud didn't just pull it from a bottle of sherry, then the words 'Dark Lord' must be important."

"I'll research that, Harry. It's possible there is a specific meaning. None of this, however, affects your training. Voldemort has tried to kill you at least six times and is unlikely to stop. You have to be ready for him and his followers."

"Maybe. I'm sorry, Hermione. It's my fault you're trapped here. In the middle of summer I got fed up and left Number 4, Privation Drive. When my 'minders' caught up to me – and it didn't take long because they had tracking charms on me – when they caught me I wasn't able to fight them because I was so hungry and because they took my wand after I'd used it to defend myself from Vernon the week before – Dumbledore's orders, they said, because I have to 'keep a low profile and not draw attention'.

"When they brought me to Dumbledore and he was 'so disappointed in you, Harry', I lost it. I yelled at him that I had no friends and no family and no reason to stay where someone's trying to kill me and no one looking out for me and why the hell should I stay and fight for all these assholes?" Hermione pulled a face. "You have to understand, I hadn't eaten in four days, and had a couple broken ribs because the Dursleys had been worse than before because of Dumbledore's idiots threatening them right when I got off the train in June, and everyone abandoned me, and then they stunned me and kidnapped me and Dumbledore tried to lay a guilt trip on me."

"Oh, Harry… I was one of your friends and I abandoned you, too."

"I'm not blaming you. You're my best friend, always have been, always will be. You tried to get away to save your life and I'll never blame you for that. If you had asked me, I'd have told you to do it. But you couldn't ask. Owls were blocked, post was blocked, and my minders were monitoring the telephone. Hey, want to hear something funny? Dudley got himself a girlfriend last year at school. He spent the whole summer on the telephone, talking long distance. Vernon had to pay the charges and the Order of the Phoenix jailers had to listen to it.

"So anyway, I don't blame you. I do blame the Weasleys, Ron and Ginny, I mean. They have their own owls and Bill was one of my guards. They could have gotten a message to me if they'd wanted to. But Dumbledore told them not to, so they didn't even try. They admitted it on the train when they came to find me and tried to act like everything was normal. Dobby was the only one who talked to me. He's the only reason I'm still alive now. He got me food after the Dursleys stopped feeding me and locked me in and I couldn't get out because those idiots took my wand. He wanted to bond with me and I couldn't tell him No. That's why I was glad to see that you had bonded with Winky, because then you couldn't yell at me for it."

Hermione gave Harry a shove on the shoulder, then hugged him. "What are we going to do, Harry?"

"I don't know. One thing at a time, I guess. Why are you asking me? You're the brains of this operation."

"You're right, of course. I am, aren't I? Not only the brains but the beauty, though I'll admit the competition was hardly fierce in either arena."

"Watch it, you, or your head won't fit through the door. Even without that bush you carry around on your head."

Hermione shoved Harry again. "You're one to talk. What's with this wind-tousled look? You have showered since the last time you flew, haven't you?

"Back on topic, you keep up with your training. I'll think about long-term strategy for getting us both free. You'll need to keep yourself alive and I'll need you to keep me alive. And as you say, one thing at a time."

**...ooo000ooo...**

As before, Draco Malfoy continued with his bloodline-based insults. Hermione couldn't honestly say he was worse to her than to, say, Muggleborn firsties, but he was certainly worse than he had been for the past five years.

"Be careful, Mudblood. If you don't watch your back, maybe you'll never leave Hogwarts."

In other circumstances, Malfoy's verbal sniping would have been no more annoying than it had been for the previous five years. That is to say, intolerable, but forced by the Hogwarts adults to be tolerated.

In these circumstances, with Hermione's best friend knowing that she could not leave Hogwarts and that she was targeted by Death Eaters and forced to "sacrifice for the greater good" by the nominal good guys, Malfoy's verbal sniping was not tolerated.

Dumbledore spoke to the student body at dinner the next day. It was a command performance, with attendance at the dinner mandatory for all students and staff.

"Yesterday, as I am sure you all know, Draco Malfoy was injured in an anonymous, cowardly, and almost fatal attack."

It was a given that almost everyone knew that Malfoy had been thrown down several flights of stairs even though no one had actually seen anything. It must have been deliberate, whether a suicide attempt by himself or an act on somebody else's part, because that staircase had anti-tripping charms because of its height and potential for serious accidents. Half a dozen aurors had questioned any student who had been anywhere near the event or might know something about it or might have had a motive to perpetrate it. That notably included Harry, who had been interrogated no fewer than three times in the past twenty-four hours.

"I must emphasize again that we will not abide any attacks at all, let alone those of such a serious nature." Dumbledore talked over Harry's snort. "We must maintain Hogwarts's reputation as the safest place in Britain." Here he had to stop for a moment. The mocking laughter came from more than just the one student. Fixing a fierce glare on Harry, Dumbledore continued. "I offer leniency to the culprit or culprits if they turn themselves in now. Otherwise, I will have no choice but to expel whoever attempted to murder Mister Malfoy as soon as he is identified. And never doubt, whoever you are, that I will find you." There was no derisive, teenage laughter after this statement, possibly because the headmaster looked truly angry.

Hermione thought that Harry looked as if he wanted to say something. Surreptitiously elbowing him in the ribs, she fixed him with her fiercest glare and shook her head minutely. Harry subsided.

In the Room of Requirement the next morning, Hermione braced Harry.

"We have to work on your emotional control, Harry. What you did to Malfoy – and I know it must have been you because it couldn't have been anyone else – could have gotten you arrested. Or worse, expelled." Hermione gave Harry a moment to smile at the reference. "Seriously, Harry, I do appreciate your standing up for me, but it's too risky. You're lucky the aurors didn't realize you'd done it and arrest you. We need you to kill real threats like Lucius, not pests like Draco."

"It wasn't just luck with the aurors. You know how you had me reading up on Occlumency and Legilimency in all my free time?"

"Yes, I recognize your sarcasm, Harry. Do you mean to say that you've managed to become an occlumens?"

"No, it looks like Slime Master Snape has permanently damaged my mind so I can't learn it. Instead, I invented another way to shield my mind. I just build myself up so I really, really hate whoever's trying to read my mind. All-consuming hate."

"That's quite clever. I can see how the overwhelming emotion would cloud your thoughts."

"Right, that's pretty much what the Legilimency book said. I think the aurors were surprised that I hated them so much, but tough. They shouldn't have been trying to read my mind without permission. And if they report that I'm emotionally disturbed, I don't care. I spent all last year with people thinking that and I don't care what they think anymore."

"Very good, Harry, but let's return to the topic. As I said, you need to work on controlling your emotions. The good news is that your new training will not add to your morning or evening routine. The bad news is how you'll be doing it. I want you to smile and speak politely to Malfoy whenever he insults you or me. Respond to physical or magical attacks, certainly, but so long as it's only words, you are to be polite and cheerful. Another bit of good news is that this will certainly drive him up the wall."

Hermione thought that this discipline would not be hard for Harry to learn. Re-learn, rather. Over the past few weeks he'd told her about his childhood. He'd been forced to act and speak politely and submissively to the Dursleys no matter how they insulted him and his parents. He'd be building up aggravation that would have to be vented, but that's why their training room had practice dummies.

As expected, Harry picked up the "new" discipline very quickly. By the second day, his cheerful demeanor was uncrackable.

"Hey, Scarhead! I'm talking to you!"

As expected, Harry's outward indifference to childish taunts drove Malfoy crazy very quickly.

"Oh, you must pardon me, Malfoy. I didn't notice you. But now that you're here, I have a gift for you."

Malfoy looked at the brightly-colored paperback book Harry handed him. "_Snappy Put-Downs for Dummies_? What is this Muggle garbage?"

"Your insults are pathetic and repetitive. You clearly aren't smart enough to make up new insults on your own, so I'm helping you to expand your repertoire. It's the least I can do for my slightly slow cousin."

Point for Harry. Malfoy's mouth was working soundlessly. Hermione winked at her friend as they continued on their way.

**...ooo000ooo...**

Harry had arrived late to training one Sunday morning after a couple of weeks and he did poorly in the drills. Hermione wasn't surprised. Dumbledore had finally started special training for the designated vanquisher of the Dark Lord. It must have run very late last night, as Harry hadn't returned to the dorms by midnight, when Hermione finally packed up and headed up from the common room. And today, for the first time, he did worse than he had the day before. Much worse.

"Dumbledore had me up in his office most of the night," Harry told her after she'd called a halt to the brutal beat-down. He had done terribly. He was obviously tired before he started and couldn't focus. To his credit, he hadn't given up even when he couldn't stand, couldn't see, and had to hold his wand in his left hand. Winky was able to perform some basic healing, as all elves were, but her services had rarely been needed. Today she needed to patch up dozens of burns and cuts while Hermione undid the handful of minor hexes still affecting Harry. "He said he'd be teaching me to beat Voldemort — Sounds like a great idea, right? Dumbledore finally teaching me something useful? — except he didn't say 'beat' or 'kill' or even 'vanquish'. He said 'overcome'. And all he did was show me a memory from a hundred years ago, about Voldemort's – Riddle's – family. And then talk about the memory and his family and his mother. And talk, and talk. When I asked how a memory of Voldemort's uncle and grandfather was going to help me in a fight against him and his Death Eaters, Dumbledore said that understanding Riddle was more important than fighting him. I'm supposed to understand what made Riddle turn out the way he did, understand all the hardships in his life. And he kept talking and talking. I think he was trying to wear me down into sympathizing with Riddle. He's lost it, Hermione, he really has.

"There's another thing. His hand is rotting, have you noticed? He keeps a glamour on it, so unless you're close or around for a while, you don't see it. He tried to tell me it was just an accident but I could see the dark magic on it. I wonder if that's rotting his brain or if his brain was already rotting."

The revelations about Dumbledore's hand and possible senility changed nothing for Hermione's plans and goals. She'd expected to be training Harry by herself with no help from the Hogwarts staff. If anything, this year the teachers had destroyed the last remnants of automatic respect for authority which had managed to survive five years of life and education at Hogwarts. Flitwick was unwilling to go against foolish orders from the headmaster. Sprout had made a few derogatory comments to her Hufflepuffs about Harry's penchant for "causing" trouble and advised them to keep their distance. (Something similar explained Neville keeping his distance. His grandmother had in effect grounded him over the summer and browbeaten him about how "That Potter" would be the death of him.) "You don't want to end up like poor Cedric Diggory." Even McGonagall had rebuked Hermione for thinking she knew better than the adults when it came to Harry's education. That had been the single most devastating blow. Harry had complained a few times over the years that McGonagall was useless as a head of house and even as an allegedly responsible adult when it came to problems and danger to the students in her charge, but Hermione had not seen it first-hand since first year. The elderly witch's resolute words, firm control of the classroom, and no-nonsense attitude had impressed and inspired Hermione for years, but when push came to shove McGonagall was unwilling to exert herself for the students in her care unless it supported whatever game Dumbledore was playing. And now Dumbledore, the ultimate authority in the school and the leading light of Wizarding Britain, was no better.

There was nothing for it but to continue with the plan. By the beginning of October, after four weeks of Hermione's training program, Harry was doing very well. _Very_ well. In terms of spell power and speed and accuracy, Hermione had to constantly update the schedule for increasing the challenge level. Harry was constantly exceeding even her most optimistic projections.

Events one afternoon made clear just how much her friend had advanced. Hermione came to a hallway intersection in which Snape stood berating Harry while McGonagall looked on and Madame Pomphrey tended to what appeared to be the entire Slytherin quidditch team and a few other Slytherin upperclassman.

"I told you, they all ambushed me from three directions. All I did was defend myself and make sure they couldn't keep attacking me since no professors were showing up to stop them. I used stunners at first but they kept waking up the ones I got. That's when I started using bludgeoners and hitting them with stuff from the hallway. Professor McGonagall, how do I file a complaint against a staff member? Snape here must have been watching from close by because he showed up just when I was winning and he tried to curse me from behind just before you showed up. He's done this before so I think he must be working with the Slytherin students to set me up."

"That's enough out of you, Mr Potter. Do you expect me to believe that ten students took you by surprise and nevertheless you beat them all? Furthermore, your allegations against, and disrespect towards, Professor Snape are not tolerable. In all my years teaching I have never heard the like. After you have completed Professor Snape's detentions you will be serving a few more with me."

Hermione saw, heard, and learned. Harry's training would have to be increased. She understood the lesson that McGonagall and Snape were teaching today.

Hogwarts was a microcosm of the British wizarding world. It wasn't enough to beat his opponents in a fight. He had to beat the corrupt leadership. At the least, he had to escape their notice when he fought to defend himself.

Over the next few weeks, Hermione ruthlessly added to Harry's workload. The morning sessions started a half hour earlier and Hermione added more supplemental reading to the practical exercises. She rotated in the new subjects as she was able to develop lesson plans. Hedwig was kept busy, bringing both magical and mundane books up from England.

"Today we are going to learn the disillusionment charm, the notice-me-not charm, and related spells for covering up sound and smell. You will have one hour to learn them all, and then I am going to hunt you for the rest of this morning's session. Trust me, you do not want me to find you."

Stealth was most important, both for avoiding attacks and for avoiding detention afterward. Hermione assigned Harry the exercise of going through the castle without being noticed. She did the exercise along with him. This was one of the skills where having massive amounts of power to channel didn't help.

One evening while he was walking around practicing practical invisibility, Harry came across Crabbe and Goyle standing like rather odoriferous gargoyles in the middle of a hallway, blocking out a twenty-foot section for Malfoy to have a private conversation with Daphne Greengrass. More out of idle curiosity – nosiness – than anything else, as Harry admitted to Hermione when he told her about it, he eased his way past Goyle – the boy was large but even so he should not have been able to fill a ten foot wide corridor so thoroughly – and eavesdropped.

"… told you, Draco, you had your chance. I even gave you a second chance because you're cute and you begged. You just aren't good enough. Sorry, but there it is. You don't know how to treat a lady in public and you don't know how to show her a good time in private. I've only got until we graduate to be wild and have a good time and I'm going to make the most of it."

Harry hadn't stayed to listen to any more of the conversation. "It was kind of fun, picking up gossip stuff firsthand like that, but it was too disgusting to listen to. I mean, sex with Malfoy? No one should be that desperate, especially not Greengrass. She could get anyone she wants. Maybe she was drunk, that would explain it. But it was almost worth it, hearing that Malfoy was no good."

Hermione nodded along with everything Harry said but her private thoughts were completely at odds with her outward expression. Daphne Greengrass certainly was attractive enough to have her pick of the boys. Not only boys. And, Harry's objections aside, Draco was very attractive, too. From a "beautiful people" perspective, it made sense that the two would get together. It was funny, though, that his private performance was so bad. She'd giggled when Harry relayed that part of the conversation. Typical. The spoiled brat thought that attitude and family connections, rather than talent and effort, were enough to get one through any situation. That only worked when biased potions professors or other authority figures tilted the field. But the thought of Snape providing biased refereeing while Draco and Daphne were having private time was quite disgusting enough, thank you. Hermione pulled her thoughts back to the day's training.

Once Harry had mastered concealing or disguising his presence by magic – in under two days! – Hermione showed him a few simple, non-magical disguise techniques. A quick change of clothing to throw off lookers wasn't useful in the castle, with all the students wearing the same robes. Altering his posture and gait, on the other hand, was enough by itself to keep many people from noticing that the Boy Who Had Just Walked By was the Boy Who Lived.

He started going to class and remaining undetected or unrecognized until the teacher asked if anyone knew where he was. That backfired when Snape gave him a detention for being late to class even though the door had been closed since class started. McGonagall, of course, was fully into her role as unbiased Deputy Headmistress and declined to overturn the detention even after Harry came to her as a student in her house and explained that he could not have been late. Not only didn't she help, she told him that his attitude this year made it very difficult to listen sympathetically to his complaints about anyone else's actions.

"Why do you even try asking McGonagall to stand up for you? I don't know what's changed, but she clearly has it in for you this year." Hermione had waited up until Harry was done with Snape's detention. They always ran very late and were often designed to be emotionally damaging when they weren't physically damaging. Harry might need help or at least the chance to vent.

"I know why. I never told you? It started at the beginning of the year, when she told me that Dumbledore had told her that I was mouthy and uncooperative and that she wouldn't tolerate it. Then in my first detention with her, back in September after the Slytherin quidditch team ambushed me, she fussed at me about my responsibilities as the Chosen One and how I'm supposed to be responsible and respectable and a role model for everyone because they're all counting on me. You can guess how well I took that."

"I can. Did you burst into a profane diatribe or did you angrily but politely inform her of the flaws in her reasoning?"

"I wish I'd been thinking clearly enough enough to do that. I swore at her, swore at the wizarding world, and told her that I was thinking of leaving and letting Voldemort have them all. That was before I knew you were trapped here. Then, when she yelled at me about my attitude and language, I yelled back that she's not my mother and isn't even a very good head of house and never does anything for us Gryffindors or stands up for us."

"Now I understand her attitude. I suppose I don't have to tell you that you should have kept your temper? I certainly won't criticize you for feeling very put upon by all of society, but anger prevents clear thought and displays of temper never impress anyone, or at any rate not people you need to influence."

"Yes, Coach. You're probably right, though you've got to admit that losing my temper at most of these people won't hurt me any because they've got it in for me no matter what I do or else they're useless no matter what I do."

"There is something to what you say, but there is no sense in unnecessarily causing yourself trouble. Do try to keep your temper, at least around the professors. But you haven't answered my original question. Why do you continue to bring complaints to McGonagall when it is clear she won't do anything about them?"

"I'm rubbing in her face that she's not doing her job. I don't think she _can_ do her job, all of her jobs, but I don't care. If she can't or won't do them all then she needs to let go one of them."

Hermione frowned. She wasn't happy with Harry's solution, she wasn't happy with McGonagall or any of the other leaders of the school or of society, and she wasn't happy with being forced, at age 16, to take an adult role in fixing the problems the adults had allowed to grow. She was tired. Maybe she'd be less disspirited in the morning.

The morning after Snape's "tardiness" detention, Hermione told Harry he could let people see him again and that it was time for the next topic. "Today you'll be learning a sheaf of spells to augment your senses and another sheaf for detecting various types of things. I will be testing you this morning on your ability to detect traps. You'll be using the other spells throughout the day."

Closely monitoring the world around him, both physically and magically, would prevent ambushes like the one he had been caught in. The fact that he had fought his way out was less important than the fact that he had been caught in the first place.

Enchanted devices were the usual means of spotting magical traps, locating potentially threatening people, and detecting magic. None of these devices were available to the two students, unless they stole Dumbledore's glasses. Hermione gave it some serious thought but gave it up as too risky.

Aside from lack of availability, enchanted devices had the drawback of limiting the user to the capabilities of their devices. They also could be lost or destroyed. This might not matter to a tomb raider because she could always put off a raid until the object was replaced. It would be a fatal weakness in a wizard who was expecting to be ambushed at any time.

After Harry learned the charms to detect people and active magic and started using them between classes, he complained that there were so many people and so much magic between classes that the spells were useless and gave him a headache. Coach Granger came to the forefront and pushed Hermione the Friend aside. "Stop your whining, Potter. Are you going to let yourself be killed just to avoid a headache? All you have to do is practice enough that you can get a feel for how many people are in different places. The same goes for detecting magic. Practice until you can tell the difference between ambient magic, old spells, and fresh spells. Then learn to ignore what you don't need to watch out for." Hermione spoke from experience, albeit experience only a couple weeks old. She was struggling to keep just far enough ahead of Harry that she had new things to teach and could answer his questions.

Hermione had wanted to add some practical psychology to the studies, but she quickly found that her lack of talent in it prevented her from practicing or teaching it. The books on reading body language and subtly manipulating people might as well have been written in Sanskrit for all the help they were. She gave him the books and suggested he read them if he could find the time.

Results were good. Very good, though not as outrageously good as Harry's increase in power and fighting ability. Hermione was teaching everything she could think of which would help Harry defeat Voldemort and survive the wizarding world. Of course, it had been barely over a month so far, but it seemed a bit of attention and praise worked wonders. Hermione could kick herself. She'd been going the nagging route for the past five years.

**...ooo000ooo...**

"Harry, I've been thinking."

"Why do I have a chill running down my back?" Harry was smiling, but the bags under his eyes suggested he was concerned about another expansion of his training schedule.

"It's because you're much more clever than you let on. But don't worry, Harry. I know you're already working as hard as you can. I won't add to your load if I can avoid it. No, what I've been thinking about are the legal ramifications of defending yourself against an attack. If I understand the law correctly, it is entirely illegal in wizarding Britain to deliberately kill another magical human. According to the what I was able to find in the library, if you kill someone, even in self-defense, you are to be tried before the Wizengamot, where you are expected to explain your actions and then throw yourself on the mercy of the court."

That applied only to magical humans, of course. Muggle and non-human deaths were penalized only by a small administrative fine unless there were special circumstances. Hermione didn't allow herself to be side-tracked for this conversation.

"Harry, considering the number of Death Eaters in power or who bribed those in power, I don't think we can expect any justice if you fight back in an attack and are seen.

"You've been working on getting around and not being seen, and that's good, but I don't think it's enough. If you are attacked, the odds are simply too high that there will be a witness or that the aurors will respond just in time to arrest you after you've killed the attackers or even that any surviving Death Eaters will claim that you were the aggressor. In any of those scenarios I'm afraid you will not be believed because of ministry corruption."

"So what is your suggestion, Hermione? I know you wouldn't bring up a problem unless you had an idea of how to solve it."

"Harry, I would like you to copy this letter and send it via Hedwig. For the best response, it should be written by your hand. I'm afraid you'll need to include fifty galleons as well. Mr Van Leuven is the closest I've been able to find to a barrister. Apparently the magical world, or at least magical Britain, doesn't have barristers. I was surprised at first, but it makes sense. Veritaserum allows the court to determine the truth and therefore clever prosecution and clever defense tricks are not needed."

"That's if the minister isn't playing games at the trial and preventing the suspect from defending himself, or letting the suspect go because he had a good excuse – which means, bribed the minister."

"Just so. More cynically than the idealistic picture I just presented, we are not a nation of laws. We are ruled at the whim of the minister and the Wizengamot, not by the rule of law, and so how would a barrister, a man of the law, work in this system?

"Nevertheless, we have a few specialists in working with the Ministry. They are something like a cross between solicitors and lobbyists. Mr Van Leuven is willing to give you his best estimate of how the ministry will react if you kill Death Eaters under various circumstances. He will also provide a few suggestions for how you can legally minimize the likelihood of punishment."

Harry frowned. "I'll do what you suggest, but I don't know what good it will do. Like we just said, the law changes whenever the minister says so. The only thing that saved me at my trial a year ago was Bones arguing with Fudge. And I think she only did that because of politics or to settle a grudge with Umbitch, not for me and not for justice."

Hermione sighed. "You're quite likely right. I do think this is worth trying, however, and it's worth the money. Oh, I'm sorry, Harry. I don't mean to be cavalier with your money, but you have a vault full of gold, you said."

They had an unexpected hurdle to overcome before they could ask Mr Van Leuven for his opinion: Harry and Hermione combined did not have enough cash on hand for his fee. Harry wrote to Mrs. Weasley, asking for the return of his vault key. Her reply parchment was conspicuously lacking in attached metal objects and told him in an excessively motherly way that he didn't need the key, that he had enough money, and that if he had already used all the pocket money she had gotten for him before the school year then it was proof that he was irresponsible with money and could not be trusted with the key to his vault.

Harry was not pleased.

He sent another letter to Mrs. Weasley, firmly stating that it was his vault, his key, and his responsibility. She had no legal grounds to keep his key from them and precious little moral grounds, either. Her next response was worse than the first one, bordering on deliberately offensive. "Harry, dear, you are being extremely childish in insisting that I give you something you do not need and could not use even if you had it. You are showing me that Albus Dumbledore was right when he asked me to hold on to your key for you. I know I didn't raise any of my children to be so headstrong and unwilling to listen to adults."

Harry was a little more than "not pleased". He discussed options with Hermione. "She probably means well. She's treating me like she treats her own children, and I don't mean anything good when I say that. Maybe she hasn't noticed, but I'm not her child and she didn't raise me. And all of her own kids moved away as soon as they could. So what should we do? I could probably get to The Burrow and either sneak the key out or have a big argument with whoever's there and make them give it to me. I don't like either of those, especially not an argument. I've been training to kill people at the least threat. I might blow her head off if she starts yelling and waving her arms like she always does."

"I agree, with all of that. Don't forget, Bill, the curse breaker, put wards on The Burrow when they moved back after Sirius– after Sirius died. Aside from Mrs Weasley being home almost all the time, there may well be some very subtle alarm which would bring people running if you went in quietly. I can't see that ending well.

"What about Dobby? As he is bonded to you, he should be able to retrieve your property, shouldn't he?"

Alas, that idea didn't pan out. "I'se sorry, Mr Harry Potter Sir, but the Weezy house be blocked against elves. Weezy's Big Mama not want elves in The Burden."

The next idea, a letter to Gringotts asking them to change the keys and send Harry a new one, also failed. "As a minor, you have no standing to request changes to any of your vaults. Consult with your guardian and request that he contact us if he agrees that a lock change is necessary. You have no one but yourself to blame for allowing your key to fall into untrustworthy hands."

They'd expected that answer, actually. For all their rebellions and standoffishness, the goblins were just as much a part of the wizarding world as were the wizards themselves. The entire system worked without any checks on misuse of power and hardly any legal recourse for wronged parties. The goblins were just as much a part of the problem as was the Wizengamot.

Finally, just as Harry was getting ready to make a clandestine trip to The Burrow and let the chips fall where they may, Hermione suggested getting the twins involved. "They like you, Harry, and they owe you a favor and we've seen that they don't care for their mother's swaddling. If they can't or won't find your key for you, then you can risk getting it yourself."

The twins came through for them. "Harry, mate, we're sorry about our mother keeping what's yours. For what it's worth, your key was in the cup on the kitchen windowsill along with all the loose keys and other little stuff. We hope this means she hasn't been using it. Hugs and kisses to our favorite investor, F and G."

Van Leuven's response came a week after Harry sent him the letter and payment. As expected, the laws and political climate – Death Eaters on the Wizengamot, Umbridge still in the ministry, and bags of money still finding their way into the pockets of various ministry officials – made it very risky for Harry or his associates to kill Death Eaters no matter the circumstances. That was not welcome news, obviously, but it was good to get professional confirmation of what they suspected.

At the next morning's training session, Hermione brought up the problem again. She had not slept all night, tossing and turning and wrestling with her conscience, and it showed. "Harry, I have in mind a new direction to take your training. It is problematic in that the training itself will be skirting or breaking laws, and the intended use of the training is definitely illegal and quite likely immoral as well."

"Oh, now you definitely have to tell me all about it." Harry was mostly recovered from the morning's exertions. His magical and physical endurance were continuing to improve dramatically, so the all-out effort portion of each morning's training now lasted over twice as long as when they started, not so many weeks ago, and at a level that dwarfed his already-impressive starting point.

"We've been training you to defend yourself – defend yourself lethally – in a fight, particularly when you are attacked unexpectedly. Even if you win such a fight, you are likely to be arrested and convicted and jailed, so you lose even if you win. We have to find a way for you to win the larger fight, not merely the spell-casting portion of the fight.

"This suggests that you need to fight where there are no witnesses and no evidence that you were involved. You need to make sure none of your opponents escapes to tell the tale.

"This suggests that you need to fight at a time and place of your choosing, not theirs. We are no longer talking about responding to ambushes, but rather of ambushing your enemies. You see why I was wrestling with this conclusion."

"I do. You're talking about cold-blooded assassination and murder. And I can't argue with you." Harry pondered the new idea for a few moments. "I'll need to learn how to break into warded houses. How to find where somebody lives or some other way to find him. Tracking charms, bribing people in the floo office, whatever. Concealing my magical signature. Traps, how to make them, how to detect them, how to avoid them. What else? I'm guessing you already have lesson plans written?"

Hermione smiled. It was wonderful to see how clever Harry was, now that he had cast off the lazy dullard persona he'd worn for five years. She truly admired and loved him. If only… But at least he could be the brother she never had. "I do indeed, Harry. Enough to get started tomorrow, at any rate. We can develop the goals and the lesson plans together."

Training in breaking and entering progressed as rapidly as all of of Harry's other training this year. By the third week in October it was time for a quiz.

"Harry, I have a challenge for you to overcome. You'll like this."

The challenge was to break into Snape's quarters in Hogwarts and prank him somehow. Hermione suggested the prank not be lethal but didn't provide any other guidelines.

It took Harry three days to report success. He had been very cautious, expecting the "reformed" Death Eater to have very dangerous traps on his door or elsewhere.

"I found out that Snape's fireplace has a floo connection. I don't know if all the teachers have that or just Snape so he can go to his Death Eater parties. I can check some of the other teachers' rooms if you care. Anyway, I had planned on itching powder in all his robes but when I found the fireplace I thought of something better. Next time he lights a fire and sticks his head in, five gallons of petrol will dump on him."

"Harry! I said non-lethal pranks. What part of burning to death is not lethal?"

"Oh, relax. It's just Snape. He probably wouldn't burn to death, probably, and even if he does, it's just Snape."

"I don't care about Snape! Not much, at any rate. I'm concerned about you, you fool! If a teacher is murdered in the school, there'll be an investigation. I doubt you'd be able to withstand that, especially if they suspect you, and more especially if they're determined to make a scapegoat of you."

"Oh, all right. I'll go back in and replace the petrol with water. But you're taking all the fun out of this."

Harry managed the second – or was it third? – break-in of the hated teacher's quarters without being caught. Amazingly, he even made a crude wards and traps map. There were, indeed, lethal traps in Snape's quarters. Hermione made a note to think of ways to use that information against Snape.

Looking at the ward map, Hermione shook her head. It simply wasn't reasonable that Harry had learned to make his way through traps and other wards so quickly. Ward breakers went through apprenticeships or on the job training for a year or more before being minimally qualified, and their mortality rate was very high for the first few years.

"I do the spells for detecting wards or for disrupting them, and I just pump power into them. If I push hard enough the wards or runes or whatever just stop working until I let go. Or I can cast the disrupting charm on the master rune or the power rune while suppressing the others and then the whole thing falls apart."

"That's amazing. I'll have to research it. Can I borrow Hedwig for another trip to the bookstore? And you had better not ever tell Bill Weasley what you can do. He'd likely be most put out with you."

Harry's next challenge was to make his way up to the Gryffindor girls' dorms. During evening study hours. Without being caught and without setting off the normal anti-boys alarm or the many different detection wards Hermione had layered all up the stairway. Hermione would have made the challenge more fun for him by setting Harry to liberating a pair of her panties but she didn't want him to get the wrong idea about her interest in him. Instead, she told Harry to exchange all of Lavender and Parvati's clothing. That should be exciting enough to keep a teenage boy interested without actually harming the other girls or giving him any wrong ideas.

Harry managed it that very evening. Hermione couldn't believe it. She'd been watching the staircase and she had Harry's cloak in her book bag, but the alarms hadn't so much as chirped and she hadn't seen even a shimmer go toward the stairs.

When she asked Harry how he'd done it, he'd only laid his finger along his nose and said, "Magic." Then the cheeky bastard winked and handed her a pair of panties. Her own panties. Her laciest pair!

**...ooo000ooo...**

Dumbledore had continued Harry's special training every other week since the middle of September. Harry grumbled to Hermione that it was a total waste of a Saturday night. The memories didn't teach him anything useful and when Harry asked question on practical topics, in an effort to get some value for his time, Dumbledore avoided answering with the deftness that only a century of avoiding questions could bring. And in the last session, Dumbledore told Harry that he had to persuade Slughorn to give up a secret memory that was "essential to the fight". That was the final straw. Harry told Hermione he wasn't going to waste his time anymore.

"Mr Potter."

"Yes, Headmaster?" Harry continued to fill his plate. "I hope you don't mind if I eat while you talk. Your deputy already detained me on the way to breakfast, almost making me miss my meal. A meal that I'm paying for, I remind you."

"Mr Potter, I summoned you to my office last night for another of your special study sessions. What is your excuse for not obeying the summons?"

"I already told you last time I wasn't going to go to them anymore. They're a waste of time and I've got too much to do already. NEWT studies are so time-consuming, you know." Harry said this through a mouth full of sausage. Anyone who had ever eaten with Ron Weasley knew just how annoying it was.

"Mr Potter, it is not your place to say what is appropriate for your education. You will report to my office tonight immediately after the dinner meal."

"I made my course selections last summer, Headmaster. I don't recall selecting 'special private lessons' as one of them."

"Mr Potter, I must insist. You know as well as I why you need this special instruction. You will come to my office tonight or I will be forced to have you brought there."

"No. Are you really threatening to kidnap me? In front of all these witnesses? Your special studies have nothing to do with the Hogwarts classes I selected and am paying for and they are even taking time away from the classes I'm taking."

The conversation continued a few more minutes but it may as well not have. Neither party was giving an inch and "You do know there's a word for old men who want to be alone with teenage boys late at night, don't you?" did nothing to promote harmony, understanding, or compromise. Eventually Harry stood up and headed to class along with most of the audience.

"I don't know what to tell you, Harry." Hermione was chewing her lower lip as they walked together. "I'm sure that there was a better way to handle that confrontation but aside from not calling Dumbledore a pederast I don't know what you should have done. Interpersonal relations and politicking are not my forte. I'll see if I can find a book or maybe a person to work with you."

"Thanks. I'm going to hide somewhere tonight so the old man can't find me. I'll be at training at 5:30 like usual if I can, but no promises."

As it happened, Dumbledore ambushed Harry at dinner that evening, striking before Harry had expected it.

Harry didn't make it to morning training, nor to breakfast, nor to his morning class. "The old man kept me in his office past the time we start in the morning, then escorted me to Gryffindor tower and told me he didn't expect anyone to see me outside the tower all morning." Harry told Hermione at lunch. "Before making me watch those stupid memories, he spent _three hours_ telling me that he was the one to decide how to fight Voldemort and he was the only one with the experience and wisdom to make decisions and I am not able to make any decisions because I've never made any before so that means I don't have the experience to make decisions."

"That doesn't make any sense. How are you supposed to learn to make decisions if he never lets you make any?"

"Tell me about it. I thought of that, too, but not until too late and Dumbledore went to the next thing. He's my guardian and he cares _so much_ for me that he can't bear to see me misbehave. It's like I told you before, Hermione. He's lost it. I think you're probably right, he probably isn't evil, he doesn't want to destroy people just because he can. But I think I'm probably right, too. If he was evil, how would he be treating me differently?"

**...ooo000ooo...**

The headmaster's special study sessions were not the only educational dark cloud in their sixth year. DADA classes had been getting worse and worse. Snape had all but abandoned lectures in favor of constant matches in the dueling pit. That is, he was arranging matches to ensure that Gryffindors and other unfavored students were injured every class.

Except for Harry. Between native ability and daily practice much more intensive than DADA duels, he breezed through every match with insulting ease. It infuriated Snape.

"I'm sure our Chosen One is feeling even more full of himself than usual,"Snape sneered after Harry had defeated two pairs of opponents in a row and had made it look easy. "Let us see how he can do against a real threat, not one of you pathetic dunderheads."

It was a massacre. Snape attacked without the duel having been formally started. He used many dirty tricks and dark spells which had been explicitly forbidden since the first class of the year. The power behind his curses was greater than Harry had had to deal with before, even in the training room. He even lobbed a large potion bottle toward Harry. When it exploded, it spread a corrosive mist which had Harry screaming and tearing at his eyes.

Two days later, after he had been released from the hospital wing, Hermione led Harry to the Great Hall by the hand. She told herself it was so she could guide him around obstacles that his newly-recovered eyes might not see, but the fact was she needed touch to reassure herself that he was healthy and with her again.

Harry confirmed with Hermione, "You'll be including all that in the morning training, right?"

Hermione nodded. Harry would be trained to defend himself against, and to use, every dirty trick in the book. She wondered if it would be safe to ask Moody for ideas or if he would just run and tell Dumbledore.

And speaking of Dumbledore, Hermione wondered whether it was coincidence that Snape had attacked Harry in the first DADA class after Harry had publicly insulted Dumbledore and defied him regarding the special training. It was already clear that Dumbledore was not as light as portrayed, but what could he think to accomplish? Could it be simple retribution? Hermione said nothing to Harry because she had nothing firm to go on, only suspicions. But she kept it in mind.

She also kept in mind Harry's question: assuming Dumbledore wasn't evil, what would he be doing differently if he were? It bothered her that the list of differences was almost empty.

* * *

**Author's Note**: If you've read my other stories, you'll notice a change in style. While I prefer a stripped-down story, more of a sketch than a finished oil painting, it seems that editors and agents do not. As a consequence I am practicing fleshing out stories. This one, for instance, is going to come to about 50k words, whereas I would normally have taken about 6k to cover all of the main points, or even 3k to cover the essentials and hint at the rest. If you've read any of my other stories, please let me know what you think of the difference.


	2. Chapter 2

"Hermione, take a break. It's not worth it for you. You stopped getting more powerful a week or two ago. I've been watching. There's no sense in you killing yourself if it's not doing any good." Harry was holding her hair while she vomited at practice.

"It might kill me if I don't continue to practice and maximize my potential."

"I'm always tired and I hurt all the time now. I know you do, too. I've seen you wince and lean on something when you think I'm not looking and I've seen the number of pain potions you've been taking. Give it up. It's not worth it."

"I can handle it. You're hurting, too, probably worse than I am. I'm the one making you do this so I have to do it, too. And maybe I'm just on a plateau and tomorrow I'll start getting more powerful again. I'm in this fight, too, you know."

"I'll protect you, you know that. I can't always be with you but if I'm there when you're attacked you won't die unless I'm already dead."

"If you have to watch out for me, it might get us both killed. I have to be able to take care of myself. Besides, I owe Dolohov. And a few others, come to that."

Harry was silent a moment. "You're right. As always. Up on your feet, Granger! Break time's over. Start blasting those dummies over there" – the Room of Requirement accommodatingly provided a set of new dummies which looked remarkably like Dolohov, down to the hateful snarl – "and don't stop until you pass out!"

Despite her desire to keep pushing, Hermione had to admit that Harry had a point. Even taking the maximum safe dosage of pain potions every day, and sometimes a bit over that, she hurt all the time. It was easy to see why so few wizards and witches went through this regimen. Agonizing effort, weeks of pain, and limited payoff for most who undertook it. If anything, it was a miracle she had found mention of the technique anywhere.

A week later, she hadn't noticed any increase in her power in almost three weeks. Her control had improved, but not the amount she could push out. Hermione threw in the towel.

She continued to coach Harry, of course, and to develop her own control and speed and ability to hold her own in a fight, but she gave up on the power training except for comparatively easy workouts to maintain her new power. She felt guilty every pain-free day. She assuaged the guilt by massaging Harry when his muscles cramped.

The daily workouts were working wonders. There was the way that Harry had devastated the ambush by the Slytherin Quidditch team … and that was after only two weeks of training. A month later, he hadn't had to deal with direct attacks like that, but his casual, minor use of magic with no wand was in a way more impressive. Hermione wasn't sure whether it was the enormous increase of his magical core or learning to focus better or willpower or simple confidence in his ability to make things happen by magic. Whatever the cause, Harry seemed to be approaching "Dumbledore" levels of ability. At sixteen.

And perhaps Hermione's ability was increasing as well. She didn't recognize it because Harry's improvement overshadowed hers.

Hermione patrolled the castle one evening, shooing stragglers up to their common rooms before curfew. She was alone, even though prefects were supposed to work in pairs for safety and increased authority, because her partner had chosen to keep the common room quiet. She should complain to McGonagall about Ron's sloughing off of his responsibilities but she was stopped by years of friendship. There was a good chance that McGonagall wouldn't do anything, anyway.

Regardless, it left Hermione walking alone tonight, as she did almost half the time when she had duties.

She was alone, so there was no one to warn her about the stunner that was cast from behind her.

But Hermione had been practicing as she walked along. She had boosted her hearing, partly for the practice and partly because it helped her in her duties. As as soon as she heard shuffling feet from behind some hallway clutter she was on the alert. When a muttered incantation began, her wand was in her hand and a shield was up before the stunner had left the other wand.

"Well, Bullstrode, don't you feel foolish?" Hermione asked the bound, full-body-locked, silenced girl. "The question is whether you're here alone." The stunned bully didn't answer.

A revealing spell showed several humans in the next classroom. Hermione frowned slightly. It was possible that this was a coincidence, that they were innocently studying near where Bullstrode had ambushed her.

Hermione disillusioned herself before opening the classroom door. Three stunners later she was wondering what to do with the three girls who had been waiting, wands out.

"Granger! What are you doing, attacking my students? I'll see you expelled for –"

Snape dropped. Harry un-faded into view.

"You don't know how to do an obliviation, do you? No problem." Harry conjured a shovel and prepared to strike Snape in the head.

"Harry! You can't kill professors. Not even Snape, unless you can do it and not be caught. Thank you for watching out for me, by the way."

Harry frowned. "I think it would be safer to kill the Death Eater than to risk him thinking that you attacked him. And you you're welcome, by the way. Good job taking care of all of them. Do you want to take the first whack? Think of how therapeutic it would be, making up for years of his bad temper."

"No, Harry." Hermione thought. Hermione looked at the three upper-year Slytherin girls. Unlike Bullstrode, all three were rather attractive. She recognized two of them as being seventh-years. "Legal" in this world. Hermione looked at Snape. "Can you get some whiskey or wine? And a camera?"

Hermione left with Bullstrode floating alongside her, looking for a professor to report the abortive attack. If it came up, she would claim that she had checked the classroom and found Snape romancing the other three girls with whiskey but that she hadn't mentioned it because it was too embarrassing. And if Snape threatened her, she had blackmail photos.

**...ooo000ooo...**

Training continued. School continued. Hermione spent a few evenings with the other seventeen-year-olds, learning to apparate. She'd managed the almost-unheard-of feat of making a shaky jump by the end of the first class, with no splinching but a feeling of nausea. She stopped attending the lessons after the second class, in which she'd managed to make repeated short-distance hops. The teacher, a ministry flunky who didn't know her reputation, wanted her to keep her progress down to that of the other students, to avoid discouraging them. Hermione didn't need the teacher any longer; she knew enough to teach Harry and could pick up the rest from books. Furthermore, the time spent in the lessons wasn't excessive, but having to walk to and from the practice area outside the Hogwarts wards simply took too long, time that she didn't have to spare.

Harry, of course, picked up the skill almost immediately. Hermione was almost sure that he did this just to annoy her. She would have been quite put out with him, but she couldn't begrudge him an ability which would help keep him alive. Besides, he explained as they walked back, he'd done it before.

"Didn't I ever tell you that I accidentally apparated before I started Hogwarts? Today, I knew that I could do it because I'd already done it. And anyway, you learned really quick, too. Think about it, we've been really focusing on our magic for a month and a half now. We're probably the two strongest students here and the two who work the most on control and the two who, ah, think about how we do things with magic. I know that I don't always do the spells right except when I'm in class and the teacher's watching. I just think about what I want and push some magic and make it happen."

Thinking about Harry's analysis, she realized he was right. She'd been too busy and too caught up in the details to notice, but Hermione Granger, Miss Do It by the Book, was not always using formal spells. Naturally, once she noticed, her performance went down until she told herself, "I know that I can do this because I've already done it."

Shortly before Halloween, something occurred to Hermione as Malfoy slunk off after yet another bout of insults went wrong. Wrong for him, that is. And metaphorically slunk off, that is. He, Crabbe, and Goyle had been pushed into a pile and their hands and legs all stuck together so they had to shuffle in a cluster toward the infirmary. Harry had managed that without a spoken incantation, without a wand, without looking, and apparently without even noticing Malfoy calling Scarlett Lympsham a whore for being with someone who wasn't Malfoy.

Not that that was an especially appropriate insult, Hermione thought. Going by what other students said afterward, Lympsham had declined to be favored by Malfoy's attentions the previous evening, choosing instead to do homework with a group of students that happened to include a handsome fifth-year boy in Ravenclaw. Poor, poor Malfoy. His supercilious and insulting attitude and crap bedroom skills were keeping him from getting a date. It wasn't nice of her, but Hermione snickered to herself at his misfortune.

It was obvious that dealing with Malfoy was no longer doing any good, so far as Harry's training went. Malfoy's best efforts at annoying Harry were laughable. His bullying of other students was effective because of family power backing sheer nastiness, but easily stopped if an older student actually stood up to him. Harry might as well be taking milk money from firsties for all the training he was getting out of dealing with the pest.

And Hermione noticed something else: none of the other Slytherin students made it a point to harass Harry. Certain students, the same "certain students" who bullied the Muggleborn, would laugh along with the insults and they had participated in attacks (before doing became too painful) but only under Malfoy's leadership. It was as if Malfoy had been designated as Harry's student nemesis. The idea was ridiculous at first glance, but it did fit the observed facts. Possibly Malfoy's attentions had been directed by Snape since first year. (Or by Dumbledore, she though darkly.) Or perhaps Malfoy had simply called dibs.

Two nights later, Hermione had Harry meet her in an unused classroom. She needed to introduce two new members of the team. The opposing team, rather, but they'd be helping with Harry's training. Regardless, she didn't want to let them know how to get into Harry's training area.

"You know Daphne Greengrass, of course." Of course he did. Every man in the castle knew Daphne, or wanted to. It was easy to identify the boys who were past puberty because they got stupid in her presence. She wasn't a classic beauty but she just _oozed_ sex appeal. Like Marilyn Monroe. But with bigger breasts, damn her.

"I don't think you've met Astoria Greengrass, Daphne's younger sister. Astoria will be helping with your training. She's agreed to be your designated nemesis." Astoria _would_ be a classic beauty in a year or two. Right now she was very cute, with delicate features and flawless skin. Her figure was waifish today, but she was a flower poised to burst into bloom, too adorable for words. Damn her.

"Pleased to meet you, Mr Potter. Or I should call you Harry and you must call me Astoria. We'll be working _very_ closely over the next few months."

"Ahem. Before we get to that, let's talk about what a designated nemesis does. The idea comes from comic books and other serial fiction. No, Harry, I never read comic books until a few days ago, when I started researching the idea.

"In short, a nemesis tries to make your life miserable. This might include kidnapping you or your loved ones, framing you for crimes, or destroying your possessions. It can range from insulting you in the hallways to luring you into lethal traps."

"Hmmph. I wouldn't think I'd need a nemesis. I've got Snape and the ministry and the _Prophet_ and of course Derpo Malfoy doing all that."

"Ah, but that's the difference. A designated nemesis can do all that in a spirit of friendly competition and with the purpose of making each opponent stronger and more capable. This would not work well in real life but is easily adapted for our purposes here."

"Friendly competition? That sounds like kind of a stretch. I have read a few comic books, and blowing up your enemy's – your nemesis's – house isn't exactly friendly."

"That's too literal an interpretation of what I said, Harry. The key point is that many of the characters could kill each other off, but they never do, or very seldom. Of course, that is because the comic book companies want to keep the characters going and keep the story going and keep the sales going. If they resolved everything quickly and cleanly, they'd be stopping the gravy train. Obviously we are not fictional characters and are not having our lives yanked around to keep the gravy train chugging along or because of authorial incompetence, but the similarities are greater than you might think. I suspect that the magical world affects all of our lives, making events more dramatic and minimizing the consequences. How else can we explain all the drama your life and the lack of punishment for those who inflicted it on you?

"However, we are once again veering from the topic. The key point is that taking the idea of nemeses, friendly competitors, from comic books may help with your training.

"Your current nemeses are not at all suitable for the task of strengthening and improving you. Malfoy is just an ass, and an incompetent one at that. Who knows what Snape's problem is, though I'd bet you could find it in a reference book of abnormal psychology. Astoria here is willing, even eager, to partner with you as your nemesis because she is ambitious and clever but Slytherin House is not helping her to develop the skills to realize her ambitions."

"That's right, Harry. Everyone in Slytherin is a thug or a simpleton."

"Hey!"

"Not you, Daph. I wouldn't plot against my own sister. But I want to be Minister of Magic someday, and how can I practice my schemes and manipulations against thugs and simpletons?"

Harry blinked, looking at Astoria rather than her sister. "You're right. I'd never thought of that. A lot of politicians have always come from Slytherin House. You'd think they started their training here in Hogwarts, but how can they now? I wonder if Snape is discouraging cleverness on purpose. I wonder if Malfoy or Fudge told him to do it to cut down on the competition."

"That's an interesting thought, Harry, but let's return to the subject of nemeses. Ideally, a hero and his nemesis work to improve and strengthen each other. One or the other will be victorious in any particular action, but the vanquished will always be left to get better and come back for a rematch. This pattern is convenient here because the two of you do not want to kill each other or even seriously inconvenience each other. Your long-term goals are not incompatible and strengthening each other will more likely help than hinder you both.

"There's an additional benefit. If the hero and designated nemesis have some attraction to each other, then a successful plot or foiling of a plot can result in, ah, an agreement to congratulate the victor and console the vanquished. In the comics, of course, this is used to increase drama when two lovers oppose each other. In real life, we can use it to make sure the friendly competition stays friendly.

"Now, Astoria has told me that she does not wish to participate in all of the possible congratulatory and consolatory activities with a man she is not married to. This is where Daphne comes in. She'll fill in as Astoria's stunt double. They're not quite doubles, of course, as Daphne's had almost two more years to mature, but I'm sure you can make do. You won't object to D-cup Daphne filling in for A-cup Astoria if you –"

"Hey!"

"No offense intended, Astoria – if you manage to escape Astoria's fiendish trap while she's asleep and you have to tie her up in bed, will you? Or if you need information which only she has and and which you will do anything to get, even the dreaded Tickle Torture?"

Harry blushed a bright, bright red. He had trouble looking Daphne in the eye. Though in point of fact he hadn't made much eye contact with anyone since he'd noticed the cut of Daphne's blouse. Teenage boys were so predictable. Show them a little cleavage and you own them. But of course the "little" cleavage Daphne was showing was more than Hermione could show if she were topless. Damn her.

"Harry! Pay attention, please. You may earn the chance to make a more personal inspection of Daphne's bounty later, but only as you manage to overcome Astoria's plots." It was the first lesson in the coach's handbook: you have to motivate your people before you can do anything else.

"Ah, Daphne? Are you sure you want to do this? It almost sounds like you're getting dragged into this and not getting anything out of it. Not that I'm not interested. I am! But only if this is something you want to do. Not if you're being used as some sort of prize in a game between Astoria and me."

Hermione held back both a smile and a sigh. Putting others' feelings before his own needs was pure Harry. She'd have to work to suppress that. Too bad. It was a fine line she'd have to walk, continuing Dumbledore's work of hardening him up without going so far that he himself would become a problem.

Daphne's warm laugh drew Hermione's attention away from her plans. "That's why I'm doing it, Harry. I wouldn't be the stunt double if it were anyone but you. I remember what happened two weeks ago, when Malfoy was calling me a filthy whore when I came back from Hogsmeade with another boy and he _mysteriously_ flew into the door and then his bodyguards _mysteriously_ flew after him and broke his arm. I don't know that it was you, but who else could have and would have? It's the same with the other _mysterious_ things that have been happening to the more obnoxious and less tolerant students here. A lot of people are sure it must be you, Harry, even if we can't prove it."

Hermione exchanged concerned glances with Harry. If the students at Hogwarts, not known to be the most observant or rational humans on the face of the planet, had figured out what Harry was up to it boded ill for their need to keep it quiet.

"Believe me," Daphne babbled on, oblivious, "I'll be happy to fill in for Astoria every time you beat her. And listen, Mister, I'll be _most disappointed_ if you don't outwit her regularly. There's another reason I'm doing this, you don't have any bad habits to unlearn. I expect you to win often enough that you'll learn to really please a lady. And you _will_ learn, or else. Most of the boys in school either don't care to learn or they don't bathe or they'd treat a little fun as a betrothal commitment. It's hard for a girl who just wants a little fun before she has to settle down. That's where you come in, Bucko. You know this is just fun, not anything serious, and you smell good, and I trust you not to go bragging to all your friends. And once it gets out what we're doing together, and I'm sure it will sooner or later, you'll be able to protect me if I need it. And it helps my sister, so it's good for all of us."

"Ahem. If we may get back on track? Harry, because you and Astoria are not enemies or even rivals, we'll modify the usual relationship between you and your nemesis. Astoria will act against you to embarrass or inconvenience you. Her actions will be in addition to Snape and Malfoy and all the rest, so if you want to lighten your burden you'll have to remove some of the other pests.

"That will be your half of the dynamic. You won't act against Astoria but rather against your other enemies as well as Voldemort's supporters. Every time you succeed in your own plots, we will treat it as if you'd captured Astoria or something similar. As your coach, I will referee these activities."

Daphne had been doing her best to pull Harry's attention away from Hermione's oration. Her best was very good. She was tarting herself up and looking as if she were having loads of fun doing it. Hermione could see why all the boys lost their minds around her. She should be attracted to the bombshell herself — the American friend she made over the summer showed her that she was attracted to girls — but for some reason Daphne did nothing for her. Hermione shook her head. Stay on topic.

With agreement that Astoria would begin her attacks at any time after breakfast the next morning, the meeting was done. Harry held Hermione back a moment after the Greengrasses had left.

"Er, Hermione? I, er, I've always kind of liked you. I never said anything, just once or twice, but I always thought you were cute and I wouldn't mind going on a date and being with you. That is, if I need incentive to work hard. I'd rather be with you than Daphne even with her big, ah, incentives."

"Oh, Harry. I'm so sorry. I don't think of you that way. I used to fancy you, but after a friend I made over the summer I realized something. I love you dearly, but I realized you're not my type at all."

**...ooo000ooo...**

The next morning's practice went very well. Hermione attacked her exercises more enthusiastically than had been the case for the past week. Getting help in Harry's training was an emotional boost, even if it wouldn't reduce her workload at all. And Harry's spell power and physical energy were through the roof. "Motivation," he answered her, blushing a little. "You've set something in front of me that's more motivating to work for than just hoping to live through the next few years. Good job, Coach!"

Boys!

After that good start, the day went downhill in a confusing way. Hermione shared two classes that day with Harry. In each, Harry had been asked to stay after class. He told her at dinner that the teachers in every class had told him they'd heard rumors of his cheating on homework and tests. Coupled with the dramatic improvement in his turned-in work compared to the previous five years, the rumors were unfortunately plausible and the teachers asked him to explain how he was doing so much better.

Toward the end of dinner on the following day, Daphne drifted over to Harry as he wolfed down a rushed meal. "Poor Harry, losing the first round so badly and so quickly. I'd offer you some consolation this evening, but you're due in detention in a few minutes, aren't you? Tut-tut, getting caught copying Draco's Potions homework. Poor, poor Harry, you couldn't even pick someone smart to copy from. I wonder how you'll get your revenge and earn a chance to get in some gloating of your own?" All the while she was Poor-Harry-ing, Daphne was massaging his shoulders and neck. Given that he was seated and turned toward her, that placed his face at a level with her chest and barely an inch away. If any other girl were doing the same Harry would have had more breathing room, but Hermione didn't notice him objecting.

Harry's travails didn't end with that one detention. He was forced to lose his entire weekend, taking proctored exams in all of his courses to demonstrate that he knew the material and hadn't been cheating. Despite the lack of time to prepare, he managed to get Outstanding in the wand courses and passing or better scores in the rest. He had insisted on a neutral examiner for Defense. "Snape will never grade me honestly. He never has and probably never will. Anyone but a fool can see that. If you make me take a test with that Death Eater, he'll fail me out of spite. I might as well just leave Hogwarts now. And take that grin off your face, Snape. Think about this: before I leave I'll make sure that everyone knows the prophecy and that you're the reason I won't lift a finger to stop your real master. I can't believe you'd survive long enough for Voldemort to reward you."

Recounting the encounter later, Harry rolled his eyes. "Dumbledore did his usual 'Would you really abandon your friends' bit, of course. He was surprised and, ah, horrified, I think that's the best word, when I told him Yes. That my only friend not only wants me to leave but calls me an idiot for not getting away from 'that monster', and I made sure he knew he was 'that monster'.

"Hermione. You're free. I made Dumbledore break that blood ward. We're going to go away for the weekend to test it. Or else I'll help you get away for good."

"Thank you, Harry!" she gasped, finding her arms wrapped around her only friend. Stopping to think for a moment, she asked, "I can't believe that he would have given in easily. I can hardly believe that he gave in at all. How did you do it?"

"I told him that if he didn't, I would swear an Unbreakable Vow not to fight Voldemort or any Death Eaters except in self-defense, and that I'd make sure everyone knew it. And why."

"I don't think that would work. An Unbreakable Vow is more involved than simply holding up your wand and swearing to do something. What aren't you telling me?"

"Well…"

"You might as well tell me, Harry. You know how this goes: you try to hide something, I pry, you resist, I worm it out of you, and we both end up feeling annoyed and frustrated. Just skip to the 'telling me' bit and we'll try to avoid the annoyance bit."

"You're pretty pushy. Domineering, you might say. Are you sure you don't ever want to wear that dominatrix outfit I bought you?"

"What? You never–. Nice try, Harry, but it won't work. Spill it, Potter."

"I told Dumbledore that I would stay at Hogwarts through seventh year, unless Voldemort was vanquished first."

"You idiot. Now you're bound here, which was what Dumbledore wanted in the first place. How bad is it? Exactly what did you promise?"

"I didn't promise anything, not a magical promise. I just said what I just said: I'll be here until I should have graduated. I don't have to graduate, because that would let him cheat by making a teacher fail me. In a year and a half I'll leave, or early if Voldemort gets vanquished first.

"But the first part of what you said: Don't you get it? I couldn't stand it, you being trapped here. I'd have promised a lot more, if I had to, to get you free. Or I'd have killed Dumbledore, but I didn't know if that would trap you here forever."

"I love you, too, Harry."

As Hermione crushed him in her arms again, she made plans for the weekend. She didn't really think of Harry that way, not any longer, but she loved him more than life itself and she wanted to thank him in the best way she could. It should be easy enough to recall the idle fantasies she'd had about Harry last year. And a shop in Hogsmeade would have what she needed if Madame Pomphrey wouldn't give her a contraceptive potion.

**...ooo000ooo...**

Most mornings, Hermione got to the Room of Requirement somewhat before Harry did. Even with the room's magic doing most of the work, it took a few minutes to set up for the day's exercises.

One morning she was not there when Harry arrived. He dithered for a minute, then made the door appear and went in, then came out a few minutes later and disappeared down the hall. "Disappeared" in the sense of moving very fast, not turning invisible.

Hermione knew this because she was sitting, "kidnaped", in a classroom on the seventh floor with a mirror propped in the doorway to give a view of the corridor near the painting of the dancing trolls.

Astoria had been waiting for Hermione near the Room of Requirement's entrance. "Lurking" would be a more appropriate word. Too bad for her, Hermione had been scanning the environment for spells and people. Astoria was paralyzed and bound before she realized Hermione was near.

"I assume there was some purpose behind your waiting to ambush me?"

"Ah, yes? I don't suppose you'd release me and allow me to kidnap you as part of my campaign against Harry?"

And so they sat in the classroom to see what Harry would do, Hermione's role more that of referee than of victim.

Harry's response was disappointing. It was over ten minutes before he came back, puffing hard, and made it the forty feet to the classroom Hermione was in.

"Astoria, will you excuse us, please? Harry needs some coaching which I think will go better in private. Thank you for your assistance, and better luck next time.

"Now, Harry, what did you do wrong?"

"I didn't keep you safe."

"No, that wasn't it. I'm a big girl and can take care of myself. In most circumstances, at any rate. After you suspected something was wrong, how long did it take before you actually caught up to me? Ten to fifteen minutes, depending on just when you noticed while in the Room of Requirement. How could you have found me faster?"

"Keep a tracking charm on you."

"That would work, but would be easily dispelled by kidnappers. No, given that we were taking by surprise by the kidnapping, how could you have found me faster?"

"I found you with the Marauder's Map. Almost all the time was in running to get it and then running back here. I should carry it with me all the time."

"I agree that one of us should keep it. You could also have had Dobby fetch it for you. Even Winky would come if you called, if it concerned my safety.

"The lesson for today did not concern keeping me safe or faster ways to get the Map. The lesson concerns thinking, thinking all the time. You panicked when you found I was missing and you didn't use your resources to your best ability. It didn't matter today, but it could get either of us killed in the future.

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to score this as a complete win for Astoria. She failed to get me, but that was solely due to my efforts. She could have had me out of the castle by the time you ran to Gryffindor Tower and back."

Harry nodded. "I'm going to come up with you in the mornings from now on and I'll either shadow you or watch you on the Marauder's Map when you're doing your prefect stuff. You being in danger is about the only thing that scares me. If I know you're safe I'll keep my head better."

Hermione smiled and took his hand. "We have about a half hour left. Let's get in some power practice. We can skip the lessons. We got a big one today."

**...ooo000ooo...**

Throughout all his NEWT studies and extra training, Harry had stayed on the Gryffindor quidditch team. It was his only recreation, his only way to blow off steam from the considerable pressure he was under. He wasn't playing chess or sitting around idling with Ron, not since their big, public blow-up.

Hermione thought it was a mistake for Harry to continue as captain. Even if not for his extra training workload, the captaincy was hardly relaxing. It added to his stress rather than let him relieve it. Harry had to deal with temperamental personalities, arguments over team selections, and Snape canceling quidditch pitch reservations just before Gryffindor practice times. It was constant work, constant interruptions, and constant stress. It was surely worse than Hermione saw, but she was too busy with her own work to pay much attention.

When she saw how tense her friend became after every little crisis or drama play, Hermione had to bite her tongue to stop herself from suggesting that Harry simply resign the captaincy. Continue to play, of course, because he loved it, but give someone else the headaches. Ron Weasley, now there was a good headache candidate. Ron would destroy the team and any hopes of winning the quidditch championship but it would be worth it just to make him miserable. His little insults and his leaning on her for homework help honestly weren't as bad as before, because she was too busy to spend much time with him, but her tolerance was lower because she was so busy and sleep-deprived and stressed.

That was the context in which the Gryffindor team walked out onto the pitch one bright November Saturday morning. As usual, the first match of the year was between Gryffindor and Slytherin, getting the most contentious rivalry out of the way quickly and minimizing the chance for bloodshed in the halls. Of course, getting this match out of the way quickly was not nearly as sensible as reducing the bitter rivalry between the two houses or at least punishing violent aggression, but even before Harry had been punished for defending himself in an ambush by the Slytherin quidditch team it was obvious that Dumbledore and McGonagall wouldn't do anything so sensible. Snape, of course, didn't even want to minimize the conflict and in fact was one of the instigators.

Harry and Malfoy, the captains, shook hands. Even from her perch up in the stands, Hermione could see that the appearance of cordiality was almost killing them both. Moments later, all players were in the air zipping around the way they did. Hermione watched as Harry veered and accelerated, Malfoy following, when suddenly Harry's broom slowed to a crawl and gently lost altitude. Harry called a timeout and drifted over to Madame Hooch, the referee. Hermione couldn't make out the conversation clearly. Between the gestures and Hooch's "your responsibility" she got the gist. Before long all the players were back in the air.

It was a short game. With Harry's Firebolt effectively reduced to a child's training broom, Malfoy didn't have to worry about competition and could focus solely on finding the snitch. If Fred and George had been playing keeper they possibly could have kept Malfoy from concentrating. Peakes and Coote weren't skilled enough to do that. Gryffindor's inexperienced chaser squad give it a valiant effort but could barely manage to stay even with their opposite numbers. Slytherin won the game by 160 points after only an hour and the Gryffindor team slunk off the field to cheers and jeers.

Hermione found Harry and the library a couple of hours later. She noticed immediately that he was not wearing the quidditch captain's pin. "Was it your decision or theirs?" There was no sense in beating around the bush.

"Theirs, but only because they beat me to it. I've been thinking about resigning for probably a month now. It was too much work and I had more important things to do. And most of all, being captain killed all the fun of playing. I'm terrible at taking care of the hundred little things that all have to be taken care of. I don't have to tell you that. You've been telling me that for five years now." The two exchanged wry smiles.

"What happened to your broom? Is your Firebolt all right?"

"No. Someone got to it. It's fine unless I try to turn and accelerate at the same time. Hooch wouldn't cancel the game or even postpone it to let me get another broom. She said it was my responsibility to check the team's equipment before the match. It didn't matter to her that it took her and Flitwick most of an hour afterward to find the problem. And it didn't matter to her that school rules say I had to leave my broom in the broom locker since the last practice or that all of the teachers can open any of the teams' broom lockers. I'm surprised I didn't get detention for suggesting that Snape could have opened up the Gryffindor locker and let one of his precious darlings mess with it.

"The school isn't even paying to fix my Firebolt. Flitwick said he was willing to try to remove the charm but he had never worked with a broom before, especially not something as complex as a Firebolt. And there's no money in the budget to pay the Firebolt company to fix it. So I'm going to pay for it myself and then keep my broom somewhere safe, not in the locker."

"Are you on the team still? You don't have a broom now."

"I'm off. Let's just say everyone's happier this way."

Astoria and Daphne joined Hermione and Harry at their table. Daphne, as always, swayed enticingly. With her figure, she'd have to be wearing steel armor not to sway, and even that might not do it, but this afternoon she seemed to be deliberately swaying her hips to draw attention to them. By contrast, Astoria was practically bouncing as she walked, pointing up the fact that she had left childhood only recently.

"Well, Nemesis, I think we can count this as an unqualified victory for my side." Astoria looked as if she were trying hard not to gloat. "Here. These are the charms I put on your broom. I'm not skillful enough to remove them safely myself, but Professor Flitwick or maybe even Hermione here should have no trouble."

"And now, nemesis of my stunt double, you belong to me. We'd been waiting for you to beat Stori so you could earn a night with me, but I got tired of waiting. I intend to get in all the gloating that Stori is holding back. Hermione, I'll try to get him back to you by morning. Stori's had a string of victories and I'm sure I'll need to train Harry how to congratulate me properly."

Harry's face was a study. Stuck at the intersection between anger at the assault on his beloved Firebolt and chagrin at having lost a round so spectacularly, while bulging his eyes as Daphne pushed her breasts up and forward into his face, the result was simply gob-smacked. He didn't protest as Daphne took his hand and led him from the library.

"I don't know whether to hex you or to thank you, Astoria. Harry's quit the quidditch team. He'll have more time for other, more important activities. On the other hand, this was a bad way for him to shed a stressful, time-consuming activity. He was very upset by the incident, as you can imagine."

"I thought of that, actually. It was one of the reasons I went after his broom. I want Harry to beat You-Know-Who, too, and I have some idea of what he'll need to do to accomplish that. We'll let Daphne have him tonight. He needs to relieve some stress and I know what she has planned. You two do something very early every morning. Daphne knows that and will get him to that special room. Harry will be tired but less frustrated, I virtually guarantee it."

**...ooo000ooo...**

Harry was, in fact, tired but in a much better mood the next morning. "Daphne says Thank You," were the first words out of his mouth in the Room of Requirement. "And thank you from me, too." This was the first time Hermione could remember him hugging her except the morning after she climbed into his bed on their "weekend get-away". The first time he'd hugged anyone in his life, so far as she knew.

"I can understand you thanking me for setting you up with her," Hermione stated cautiously, "but why was she thanking me? One of the reasons I brought her into our team was that she had some experience and would be able to guide someone with, ah, minimal experience. After all," she continued more cheekily, "my role as coach is to train you in the skills you need in life. Making certain you know these skills is a service not only to your future wife but to all woman-kind."

"Yes, Coach. I hadn't realized you had expanded the scope of your duties. I'm sure your service to all woman-kind will be appreciated. But about Daphne. Yes, she's had a few, uh, dates, but not very good ones. She said they didn't know anything and didn't want to learn anything and she didn't have a very good time and that last night was the first time that anyone, ah, cared if she had a good time. So she wanted to know who taught me. I didn't tell her about you, but she figured it out in, like, two seconds.

"Um. I shouldn't have told you any of that, should I? I know you warned me not to tell my dorm mates about you and me, not that I would have anyway. I always thought it was low-class, the way Seamus and Dean talked about what their dates did. I don't know about talking about my dates to a girl friend. A female friend."

"Don't worry about it, Harry. I was planning on grilling her for the smutty details myself. Girls talk about their dates at least as much as boys do. It's just that girls don't like it when their boyfriends talk about them. Yes, it's a double-standard, but your life will be easier if you don't talk about your dates.

"Now, if you're quite finished, Mr Potter, _get to work_! We're not here to gossip like little girls, we're here to turn you into an awesome tornado of destruction! Now levitate that pile of rocks and then hold it and shoot fireballs under it. Move it, Potter!"

Harry's good mood lasted all morning, Hermione noticed, despite the utterly brutal magical workout she'd put him through and his fatigue-driven poor performance in class. His good mood lasted all morning … until lunch, when Draco Malfoy verbally accosted Daphne Greengrass because she'd been seen leaving the library with Harry. Her Ice Queen mask was in place, so it was uncertain how much Malfoy was affecting her.

Harry was furious. He kept his face still, but Hermione could tell by his tension and jerky movements. "Witnesses, Harry." It was something Hermione needed to train out of him: he might or might not rise to defend himself from verbal attacks, but attacks on the few people he cared about always raised his ire. He needed to keep a level head and good judgement.

**...ooo000ooo...**

"Harry, I've been thinking." The Greengrasses were sitting with Hermione and Harry in the library. Daphne said that as long as her reputation was ruined already, she might as well sit with Harry so he could keep an eye on her. It was uncertain how much of that was a joke. Astoria was well ahead in her classwork, several years ahead, and would ask the other three for clarification when the books' explanations were inadequate.

"Not you, too? Stori, every time I hear those words, it turns out to be a good thing but it means more work for me."

"Tell me, what do you know of marriages and other familial relationships among the pureblood families?"

"Not much. I know that there's a good chance that a pureblood had a couple of cousins marry not too far back. When I learned that, I lost interest in pureblood genealogy."

All three girls rolled their eyes. Where the Greengrasses were mildly annoyed at this characterization of British pureblood magical society, Hermione was annoyed that he had closed down an area of learning, one which could be important in the future, simply because of distaste.

"Really, Harry, while there is some truth to that assertion, there is much more to it than you suggest. In order to rectify your ignorance I'm not sure whether I should craft some diabolical plot which you can escape only through thorough knowledge of customs regarding pureblood families and the relationships between them, or simply to turn you over to Hermione. No doubt she'll make up flash cards for you and you will not eat a peaceful meal until you've memorized them. And I'll have you know that the Greengrass family has always, for centuries back, been very careful not to marry relatives. We go farther than that: we have a policy of marrying half bloods at least every other generation. Daphne's and my generation, in fact.

"However, I was not making an idle inquiry about your knowledge. It occurs to me that the Black Family's estate and money are sitting idle. I asked my father to look into it and he confirmed that, so far as he can determine, Sirius Black's will has not been read and the Black properties are either sitting idle or are being used illicitly."

"Sirius was a fugitive when he died, even though he'd never gotten a real trial. There weren't any other living Blacks, that I know of, except for his three cousins who married into other families. And Sirius's mother disowned him. Would any of those affect his will being read?"

"I don't know, Harry. Surely you've noticed that the law is rather fluid, depending more on the desires of powerful individuals than on the written law. I would guess that the will reading has been delayed because there is a fight over dividing the spoils. Father heard that the Malfoys are leading contenders for the lion's share on the basis of Draco being the closest living male Black. I don't know what other power blocks may be involved."

"The Malfoys stand for everything Sirius hated. He wanted to turn the family name around. When he wasn't cursing his family name he was telling me stories about Black history and some truly great things they've done, centuries ago. Sirius wouldn't have wanted the Malfoys to get his money."

"We don't want the Malfoys to get his money, either. You know they'd immediately turn it over to You-Know-Who." Hermione was not afraid to say 'Voldemort' but used the euphemisms in deference to the Greengrasses' trained fear.

"Sirius was my godfather. I don't know if that counts for anything in inheritance. He told me my grandmother or maybe great grandmother was a Black who married into the Potter family. I have as good a claim as Draco Malfoy, right?"

"That's right, you are related to the Blacks. I forgot about that. So that means…"

"Yes, Daphne, Draco is my second cousin or something. And if you ever try to use that against me, I will do bad things to you. Very bad things."

"Really?" Daphne licked her lips and wriggled. "Do you and your cousin –"

"Honestly! Can you two stay focused for five minutes at a time, or should Astoria and I go elsewhere to do all the planning and leave you two boink bunnies alone?"

That evening, after the boink bunnies had been cooled down – literally; Hermione and Astoria had become annoyed when the two took them at their word and started to push them out the door; they had retaliated with blasts of ice water – and plans had been made for Harry to ask Van Leuven to file an inheritance claim on Harry's behalf, Harry pulled Hermione into one of their private spots.

"You know it's not going to do any good. I can think of three ways this can go wrong and there are probably a dozen more."

Hermione sighed. "You're probably right. I'm not optimistic, but this is our best option, likely our only option."

"It's not our only option. Lucius Malfoy, the one pushing for Draco to inherit, is a Death Eater. Draco might as well be, even if he isn't one yet. I don't know about Narcissa, but I know Sirius was disgusted with the way she turned out and he said something about he'd cast her out if he could. And Bellatrix, but she's dead anyway as soon as I find her."

Hermione was silent for a few moments. "I don't like it." She didn't. Yes, she'd set out to train Harry as an assassin, but now, faced with sending Harry out to murder someone, she hesitated. Murder went against all the ethics she'd been taught her whole life. And she was afraid, too, afraid of the consequences if they were caught. "But you're right. I'm tired now. Let's make plans tomorrow."

Murder went against her trained-in ethics, but it needed to be done. There was no way two teens, isolated in the castle, with no legal ability to act on their own, fighting inertia and corruption and bigotry and Lucius Malfoy's gold, were going to win this "legally". It needed to be done, but Hermione was going to cry tonight over her loss of innocence.

**...ooo000ooo...**

Astoria charged at Harry one day between classes. Hermione stepped back and drew her wand, not sure what was happening. Astoria's attacks on Harry had always been subtle, political, but maybe she was going for a straight-forward physical attack to keep him on his toes.

Harry dropped into a crouch, also ready for anything that might happen.

What happened was a hug and kiss, followed by laughter and cat-calls from nearby students. Harry wasn't ready for that, judging by the gob-smacked expression as Astoria waived gaily and went on her way.

"No, I don't know what that was." Hermione wondered if Astoria was in the throes of a crush on Harry and if so how it would affect her nemesis-hood. Nemesis-ship? Confound it anyway, now that was going to be bothering her, and this dratted castle's library didn't have a good dictionary.

"And our heart-throb of a celebrity manages to make his way to class, losing ten points in the process." Of course the gossip had already gotten to Snape – it had been over five minutes by this point – and of course he was sticking his beak into matters which didn't concern him.

For more than a week the hugs and kisses occurred at least once a day, whenever Astoria passed Harry in the halls. It was strange, he mentioned to Hermione after being accosted yet again, having her spread rumors and plot his grisly demise while kissing him so joyously at every opportunity.

Meanwhile, an additional distraction was building. Several second-, third-, and fourth-year girls came up to sit with him, usually in groups, at meals or when he tried to get in a bit of studying in the library for his next test. All houses were represented. Gryffindors, of course, taking advantage of house affiliation by sitting near him in the common room as well as at mealtime. A few Ravenclaws came by in small groups and a mob of eight Hufflepuff girls descended upon the table at lunch on Sunday, even managing to squeeze in between Hermione and him. Even a few Slytherin girls followed Astoria and braved the disapproving comments of the Gryffindors so that they could sit near Harry.

"I don't get it," Harry grumbled after escaping the Hufflepuff twitter-fest. "What do they want? It's not like they're rude or anything but it's like they expect me to say something but they're not telling me what they want. And the giggling!"

Hermione sympathized completely. Not a giggler herself, she didn't care to have to hear it. Giggling usually served to cover up a lack of activity between the ears, she grumped, then castigated herself for elitism. It wasn't their fault that they weren't born with the brain she was.

The only saving grace was that only Astoria was running up and kissing Harry. Several of the other girls looked tempted but lost their nerve.

Romilda Vane had been placing herself near Harry almost since the beginning of the year. She barely spoke to him, and every time he spoke to her, even something so minor as "Can I squeeze past you? Thanks." she would immediately run to her friends for a huddled discussion with lots of giggling and staring. Hermione hadn't spoken to him about it, but it seemed that Harry didn't even recognize the tacit flirting. He probably didn't realize that she was hoping he'd be interested in her simply because she was in his line of sight so often.

However, now Vane not only had been talking to Harry but had finally taken the step of giving him a gift, some chocolates. He thanked her, looking a bit confused, and brought the chocolates up to his room before running off for another Snape detention. Hermione didn't think much about it. It wasn't her business. Harry was free to date a fourteen-year-old if that's what he wanted.

But that evening, while Harry was off researching something, Ron Weasley came down to the common room and started slobbering all over Vane before she could escape. It was disturbing to everyone who saw it, and it was a mercy to all concerned when Hermione stunned him. The only problem was that then she had to haul him to the infirmary. A prefect's work was never done.

"Did you get pictures?" was all Harry said when she told him. Curses. No, she hadn't even thought of it.

**...ooo000ooo...**

"Turn out your pockets, Mr Potter. Miss Granger, be on your way."

Hermione was surprised. While it was in the school rules that a teacher could inspect a student's possessions at any time for any reason, it was rarely done. Even Snape seldom bothered unless he was in an especially pissy mood. And here was not only Snape but McGonagall stopping Harry in the hall, both looking very serious. Hermione walked a few steps away, enough to claim to be in compliance with McGonagall's orders but not so far that she couldn't watch what happened.

In the prescribed fashion Harry emptied out everything he was carrying onto a conjured table. He had nothing beyond the usual pocket litter… until he came out with a half-full bottle of some purple liquid.

"Exactly as reported. Attraction potion." Snape hadn't even sniffed it before turning his glare on Harry. "We shall have to find his supplier, as even such a simple potion is beyond this dunderhead's capability to brew. I shall supervise his detentions, as his intended victim is in my house. Potter! One week of detentions immediately after supper, in the Defense classroom."

Harry's protestations of innocence were ignored, of course.

Harry figured it out in his first hour of scrubbing the floor, as he told Hermione later. "She set me up."

"Of course she did. I figured it out almost a week ago."

"What? Why didn't you tell me?"

"In my role as coach, I need to encourage you to figure things out yourself or deal with problems yourself. In this case, you should have recognized that her change in behavior arose from some cause, then looked for the cause. Given that she is your nemesis, you should have at least considered that her recent actions were intended to cause you some form of inconvenience. I would have told you if you were in any real danger, of course, but a few detentions wouldn't hurt you and would give you time to think. As they did."

"I understand. I'm still a little annoyed, mind, but that's at my friend Hermione, who didn't tell me. You're right, Coach Granger, about needing to think more. I'll work on it.

"I also have to work on revenge," he continued. "It's not just that she beat me and made me look like a fool, but she made me waste my time on Greasy's detentions instead of training or doing homework. And she cost me time with Daphne for countering her plot. Daphne's promised me something special if I beat Astoria four times in a row and now I'm farther than ever from getting there. Er, forget I said that."

During the second night of detention, Snape brought in a sizable fraction of Slytherin House, ostensibly to see an object lesson on the consequences of misusing potions. Malfoy and Astoria were in the Potions classroom at the same time.

"It is such a shame that an attractive pureblood witch was forced to sully herself on that half-blood," he said in a tone of mocking commiseration. "You will never be able to wash the shame off your lips. You can at least console yourself that Our Lord will kill him. If you swear allegiance, I am sure the Dark Lord will allow you to watch Scarhead's death."

Harry's face was a mask and his voice was tight the next morning as he filled in Hermione after the power training. She could tell he was still furious from the way he focused an insane amount of power into his curses. Even stunners, overpowered to that extent, blasted the life-like training dummies to shreds.

Last night, with Snape right there, Harry couldn't do anything to Malfoy as the Death Eater wanna-be – or actual Death Eater; he still hadn't found out which it was – tormented Astoria to tears. Snape's and Malfoy's and others' running insults against Harry himself didn't bother him. Why should it? They were scum. More than being scum, Snape was a Death Eater, and not as "reformed" as Dumbledore thought. Harry didn't care what Snape thought about him because there was a good chance Snape would die by Harry's hand, sooner rather than later.

Hermione understood Harry's reasoning but tried to get him to focus on the immediate problem. "Harry, you have to start fighting back against Astoria. She's beaten you in everything so far. The cheating claims, the broom, the kissing attack. The only action in which she did not succeed was in spreading rumors that you were only interested in younger girls, and frankly, I think the only reason that didn't work was because you're so thick-headed you didn't notice they were flirting with you."

"Hey!"

"Protest all you like, but I'm right. If this keeps up, you'll regress in your training and fail every course this year because you've spent so much time in detention."

"I know that's what I have to do. The problem is, she's been hitting me so fast I can't even figure out what's going on, let alone counter-attack. That's what I have you for, right, O Giant-Brained One?"

"Nice try, Harry. You have to do this on your own. I'll help, but the whole purpose of bringing Astoria on is to get you trained up to fight a competent opponent. That's aside from my role as neutral arbiter between you.

"Now, let's break this into pieces. How can you defend yourself against Astoria's attacks, at least those that you care about? I realize you don't care about the rumors she's been spreading. What else can she do to you, and how can you pre-empt it or defend against it? On the other side, remember that you're not working directly against Astoria. Instead, think about how you can hurt Voldemort, Death Eaters, and your other real enemies."

On the defensive side, Harry charmed his book bag and all of his pockets shut to make sure nothing was added or taken. Only the owner's touch would unseal the openings. Hermione did, as well. While she wasn't particularly concerned about pickpockets, it seemed a reasonable precaution that everyone should take.

Harry also set up a long-lasting shield around his body to deflect not only low-level spells but picky fingers. The shield would prevent friendly contact as well as attacks, but they calculated that it was worth it because Harry had many more people attacking and harassing him than hugging and kissing him. Alas, Slimemaster Snape put an end to the shield, giving both Harry and Hermione detention for having magic active in the hallways.

On the offensive side, Harry took it to the Malfoys. This was both Hermione's long-term strategy against Voldemort and Harry's short-term planning to get Daphne's "something special". Hermione rolled her eyes at Harry's priorities, but didn't chastise him because they took him in the correct direction. Whatever worked. Pragmatism, not uncompromising idealism, would see her through the end of this civil war.

Getting to the Malfoys was the hard part.

"Dobby, it's time for me to attack the Malfoys. They have been doing bad things and they're going to keep doing bad things until someone stops them. Can you tell me anything that will help me attack them?"

"Dobby can't say much. House elf bond keeps bad masters' secrets even after elf is freed."

"Can you tell us anything about how I can get in? Their wards or anything else I need to be careful about?"

"Bad Malfoys spent much money on very big wards. Many wizards can attack and not get in."

"Hmm. Besides the wards, do they have any other defenses? Anything else that is dangerous to me?"

"Bad Malfoys have many bad things. Dobby can't say more." Dobby started to twist his ears because he couldn't help Harry.

"Relax, Dobby, it's OK. You're doing the best you can. Can you at least tell me where Malfoy Manor is? It would be a big help if I don't have to hunt all over England for them."

"Dobby is so sorry, Mister Great Harry Potter Sir. Dobby can't say." Dobby was highly distressed now. Hermione not-so-subtly nudged Harry to stop his questioning.

"Dobby! Don't punish yourself. Never punish yourself. You told me all you could, and that's all I could ask for. Tell you what, here's something you can do for me that won't cause you any problems. Please bring dinner for two here, for Hermione and me. This will be a working meal, not a romantic dinner, so you don't need to bring candles or anything."

"Ahem."

"Ah, right. Dobby, please set up a candle-lit dinner for two here. We'll work after."

After a very nice meal, not three Michelin stars and not a date, but still a very nice meal with excellent company, Hermione voiced a thought that had been percolating in the back of her head.

"The Malfoys are prominent people, aren't they? That is, what I know of them is that their whole persona revolves around being out and about, being seen as being beautiful and prominent and influential people. If you can't attack their manor and can't even find it, perhaps you can look around public places like St Mungo's. Possibly even the ministry, if you can find an excuse to loiter around the entrance. Obviously you can't do this while school is in session, but it's a possibility for the winter break."

"It's an idea. I don't know if I want to just wait around, even if I can, but I can keep that in mind if nothing better comes up. I'll keep thinking about it."

Their break came with the quarterly meeting of the Hogwarts Board of Governors. The Three Broomsticks had had a nasty magical fire just the evening before — Who would have guessed that smoking and fire whiskey didn't mix? Obviously not wizards. — and so the board meeting took place in the castle. Hermione couldn't believe their luck when they saw Lucius Malfoy head into the empty lavatory Harry had just left, with no one in sight along the corridor. Harry shimmered and disappeared. Hermione kept walking to the next intersection and sat on a bench, the very innocent picture of a perfectly innocent schoolgirl innocently waiting for a friend.

Not four minutes later a note dropped from nowhere into her lap. _get to class, be seen_.

Hermione got to the Charms classroom to find Harry already there. Already there, and embroiled in an argument with Ron Weasley. That was unusual. True to his word, Harry had cut Ron and Ginny out of his life. They had been on the quidditch team under his captaincy, but outside of practice he had not spent any time with them after one loud conversation at the beginning of the school year in which he had expressed his disappointment with their idea of friendship. That was likely a leading factor in the Weasleys being among the loudest voices calling for Harry's ouster as captain after their first match, Hermione thought.

Prefect Granger broke up the quarrel before Flitwick came in, to the disappointment of the other students. It was merely their good fortune that this firmly established Harry's and her location at a particular time.

The aftermath was predictable. Aurors, who were seen investigating the crime scene but who apparently did not interview any students. A sad announcement at dinner that Lucius Malfoy had met his demise from an unfortunate accident in the school and that everyone should be kind to Draco when he returned from grieving. This would show him that he had friends who cared for him.

"An unfortunate accident, Harry?"

"He slipped on a wet floor and broke his neck on a toilet. Very unfortunate."

Hermione didn't sleep that night. She had formed Harry into a weapon and now her weapon had killed.

Hermione was still awake at two in the morning the second night after Lucius Malfoy's murder. Her resolve broke and she went up the stairs to the boys' dorms.

"Harry? Can I sleep with you? Just hold me."

The capstone to the Attraction Potion debacle came a week later, after the detentions were all done and Hermione could sleep again. She had declared to his nemesis that Harry had scored a major victory, without mentioning Lucius's death, and he and Daphne had just returned from a brief congratulation/consolation session. Harry was feeling a bit less grumpy about his public and humiliating defeat.

"Hermione, Harry, do you want to hear something funny?" Astoria chirped. "That potion that Snape and McGonagall found on Harry and which got Harry in trouble wasn't Attraction Potion. It wasn't a potion at all. It was glycerin and water with dye to make it look like the real thing."

Harry's jaw dropped. "You just plain suck."

"I do not. Not until I have a ring on my finger."

**Credits**: At least a year ago I came across a humorous story fragment which had Daphne (I think) taking over as Harry's nemesis because Draco just wasn't cutting it. I think Hermione orchestrated it. That was the kernel of an idea which became this story. What I recall of the style makes me think it was from Rorschach's Blot's _Odd Ideas_ but I didn't find it when I looked for it. If you recognize the fragment, and especially if it's yours, please tell me. I'm trying to give credit, but can't. There was also _Hidden Layers_ (story 7553126, by Andrew Joshua Talon) featuring pimp!Hermione. The idea was so funny I had to use it.


	3. Chapter 3

Harry had continued to keep an eye on Luna. There wasn't much he could do to help her because not only did she deny that anything was wrong, but his mere presence seemed to make her worse. Harry sometimes watched her invisibly and saw that her behavior was often strange but often perfectly normal. Whenever he talked to her or even visibly sat near her, she dropped straight into bizarre.

"There's a problem here, Hermione. Luna's got a real problem and no one's doing anything. Flitwick blew me off again and Pomphrey just said she's not a mind healer and that I should talk to her head of house if I was worried."

"The problem is this school and the ministry and the wizarding world, Harry. I get so tired of it all sometimes."

"Yah, I know. I sent a letter to her father. Remember I told you that everyone says he's crazier than she is? They're right. He wrote back that his 'little turnip would sandpole the opportunity, never you fear'."

"Ah, are you sure you read that right? Many wizards have poor handwriting and worse spelling."

"No, it was written neatly, filling in part of a crossword puzzle. Here, look."

Hermione confirmed that Mr Lovegood's answer, indeed, made no sense. "I don't know what else we can do, Harry. Keep an eye on her and make sure she's not being bullied. Make sure she doesn't wander off into the Forbidden Forest. Have you contacted St Mungo's and asked what their mind healers can do?"

"Oh, right, I forgot to mention that. I wrote them and said I had a friend who needed help. They sent back a form letter saying that mental illness is nothing to be ashamed of and that I can approach them directly without pretending I had a friend. And someone hand-wrote a note that said they never believed what the _Prophet_ was saying about me and that I shouldn't believe that I'm crazy just because everyone said so for a year."

Hermione sat and absorbed that for a moment. She was irritable today anyway and this just added to her impatience with idiocy everywhere she turned. "Harry, do you ever think about getting away from all this? Walk away from the magical world and all the crazy people here? Keep doing magic, but get away from the people?"

"Sometimes. Not as much as I used to. There are some people here that I'd hate to leave."

Hermione nodded as she bit back a biting remark about him thinking with the wrong head. She'd set up a teenage boy with someone who'd give him as much sex as he could handle. It wasn't surprising he didn't want to give up someone who'd give it up.

The Marauder's Map became a standard part of Harry's table clutter when they worked in the library or common room. A simple befuddlement charm prevented others from paying any attention to it. Harry kept an eye on Luna's location and who was with her, as well as his other friends. Even if nothing ever came of his watching, he felt better, keeping an eye on them.

Meanwhile, Draco Malfoy was becoming increasingly upset that Harry was ignoring him. Between his relearned emotional control and his effective nemesis, Harry rightly viewed Malfoy as nothing more than a childish pest.

"You'd better watch your step, Potter. Not only am I a prefect and a pureblood, but I will control the Malfoy fortune in just a few months. I'll be able to buy and sell you and your Mudblood without noticing the cost."

"We're not for sale, Malfoy. I've heard your mother is, though. Are you going to put in a bid for her affections?"

After they'd walked away from the apoplectic twit, Hermione remarked, "I should chide you for that response, Harry. You're supposed to remain friendly and polite regardless of provocation. However, that was too funny, and I must admit I'm getting tired of him and his insults and his prejudice and his threats."

Harry had had more detentions this year than previously, even more than under Umbridge. Between Astoria's efforts and his hardening and less compliant attitude, he spent at least one evening a week in detention with various teachers.

As such, Hermione didn't think much of it when Harry did not study with her one evening shortly before the Yule break, though his missing dinner was unusual. He pulled her aside in the common room when he finally came in.

"It was Luna. I mean, it was a few bullies and Flitwick and Dumbledore. Here's what happened…"

**..-. .-.. .- ... ... -... .- -.-. -.-**

"Professor!" The last Charms class of the day would have just finished and Flitwick should be straightening up the classroom before heading down to dinner. Harry dashed in, Luna in his arms and three other girls bobbing in the air behind him.

"What is the trouble, Mr Potter? What's wrong with Ms Lovegood?"

"These three" – Flitwick hadn't noticed the silenced, trussed, and floating girls still out in the hallway – "attacked her. They took her clothes and left her stuck to the wall with just this towel. And look, they even put a 'Pull Me' note on a string on the towel."

"Did you see the attack yourself?"

"No, I caught them after. I found Luna, then chased after them and caught them in the next corridor."

"Release the three young women, Mr Potter. I understand your concern for your friend, but you had no right to cast spells on any student who was not attacking you. I won't assign you any punishment because I am sure your head of house will see to that, but you must release them now."

Harry complied, scowling. "So I was supposed to let them go and get rid of the evidence? They had Luna's clothes and book bag. And what about Luna? Was I supposed to just leave her there, unconscious and naked and stuck to the wall?"

"I'm not the enemy, Mr Potter. I'll thank you to mind your tone of voice. And, no, of course you should not have left Ms Lovegood alone. In the future, I suggest you stay with her until a professor or prefect comes by. Don't interfere with anything you find, so that a neutral, responsible person can judge the situation.

"Now, ladies, what do you have to say for yourselves?"

"We didn't do anything!" "We were walking back to the tower when we were stunned from behind and then we woke up here." "Potter attacked us for no reason!"

"Miss Lovegood, what do you have to say about this incident?"

"Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun the frumious Bandersnatch."

"I'm afraid that doesn't do us much good, Ms Lovegood. Can you tell me anything more pertinent to the situation?"

"The brown recluse has come to our shores. Its coloring has changed to suit the terrain but its bite is just as deadly. You never see him before you die."

Flitwick frowned. "Thank you, Ms Lovegood. As for you three, bullying is not tolerated. If I ever catch you bullying another student, you can expect quite severe punishment. Now be off with you. Dinner will be over in half an hour."

"That's it? No detentions? Not even any kind of investigation? They attacked Luna and set her up to be humiliated or, or worse, and you don't do anything?"

"What do you expect, Mr Potter? You did not see the attack, no person in authority saw the attack or the aftermath, Ms Lovegood was not forthcoming, and the alleged attackers denied any wrongdoing. The rules are in place for a reason, and you did not follow them. There is nothing I can do."

Luna had stayed in the office, holding tight onto Harry's arm. Fortunately, she had stayed quiet rather than further disrupt the conversation with confusing, off-topic comments. Her eyes had become sharp, not dreamy, when Flitwick let the girls off without punishment.

Harry nodded, then stuck his wand out the still-open office door. The thundercrack sent the three girls tumbling. He didn't concern himself overly much. Magic could do amazing things. It would probably let the bullies hear again.

Flitwick had flicked his wand faster than the eye could follow. His disarming spell hit only the used parchment that Harry flipped into its path. "What was that, Mr Potter?"

"I was asking Dumbledore to come to your office."

Sure enough, the headmaster arrived a minute later. "Ah. Mr Potter. That explains the tumult. Do you have an explanation or shall I proceed directly to assigning detentions?"

"What is the school policy on attacks on students, Headmaster? The answer will determine how this conversation goes and what punishments are to be handed out."

"I will not have terms set in my own school, Mr Potter. However, to answer your question, every credible report of attacks or abuse is investigated and, if it is substantiated, appropriate punishment will be meted out. The same applies to other disruptions and violations of the school rules."

After Dumbledore had been filled in on the afternoon's events, he nodded and said, "It is as I suspected. Mr Potter, you will serve one week of evening detentions with me. You should count yourself lucky that you have not been arrested for attacking and kidnaping the other three students. You had no authority to act against them."

"I have no authority to fight Voldemort, either. I'm not an auror. I'm not even an adult. So why should I lift a finger to fight him when I'll probably be arrested the minute I 'vanquish' him?"

Dumbledore put on his Regretful Grandfather look, overlaying his still-visible Annoyed Grandfather look. "Alas, the prophecy overrides normal considerations. You _must_ fight Voldemort. You cannot avoid it. Normal considerations apply to his followers, however, because they are not covered by the prophecy. As with the matter of the alleged school bullies, you must follow the directives of the duly-appointed authorities."

Harry looked at Dumbledore levelly. Luna's grip on his arm must be helping him to keep calm. "Even when the authorities are corrupt or incompetent? Does this mean you'll be disbanding your own little gang of vigilantes?"

**..-. .-.. .- ... ... -... .- -.-. -.-**

"It kept up for _hours_, Hermione. None of us were giving an inch. Dumbledore was getting upset that I wasn't doing what he told me to do – _he's_ the headmaster and this is _his_ school, Mr Potter. When I told him I wouldn't do any detentions unless I agreed I had done something wrong, he started threatening me, but I told him I'd be perfectly happy to be expelled, same terms as before, see you around, have fun living under Voldemort's rule."

"I'm sure you didn't do yourself or anyone else any good, Harry. You can't fight the entire world. Even you can't. You have to learn to deal less contentiously with your opponents.

"Harry, what would you think of taking lessons from Astoria? You must have noticed how smoothly she operates. I don't know what she would want in exchange, though."

"I'll think about it. I really don't know if I can fit any more lessons in, unless I start skipping classes. And it might be a problem paying, depending on what she wants. I'll think about it.

"But I didn't finish my story. The whole time, hours, Luna held onto me and just looked at everyone who was talking, like she was at a tennis match. She didn't say a word but I think she was following it all. Her eyes were focused and she looked at our faces, not over our shoulders. You've seen how she normally is, right? And it's been worse lately, when she sees me. She wasn't like that at all today. I wonder if it's because she realized she was in danger and she didn't have the luxury of being able to be loony.

"So at the end, when we didn't really agree on anything except that I wouldn't be going to detention, Dumbledore asked me to step out for a moment so he could talk to Luna without me biasing her statements. I didn't believe that he just wanted to talk – if he wanted her 'statement' he should have gotten it at the start, not after she'd heard us argue for two hours – so I stepped out, then came back with a notice-me-not. Good thing I did. Dumbledore was really surprised when I disrupted his obliviation. That kicked off another argument about secrets have to be kept and I don't know what. And Luna definitely was following this. She still didn't say anything but she looked angry, and Luna never gets angry.

"So finally it all petered out. I brought Luna to Ravenclaw Tower, gave her the password for Gryffindor Tower, and told her she could come to me day or night. Then I came here and found you. The end."

Hermione needed a few minutes to absorb all that.

"They're all incompetent or corrupt. All they care about is their own power and making sure no one shakes things up so they have to do something. I get so tired of it."

"I know. I think about leaving, too. I'm not quite ready. Things aren't quite bad enough here."

"You need to watch your back, Harry. Dumbledore's not going to like you interfering and not letting him get his way. Remember last time you defied him, when he set Snape on you. And remember the prophecy. We still don't know who the Dark Lord of the prophecy is, and this makes twice that you defied Dumbledore, I believe."

Harry needed a few moments to absorb that. "Put together a bag, something you can carry, can travel with, with clothes and food and medicine. Emergency supplies in case we have to get away. Money. I'll provide galleons if you can provide pounds. We'll stash our bags someplace, maybe the Shrieking Shack, in case we have to get away. I'll do what I can do for Luna. What about Daph and Stori? They seem happy enough here. Do you think Daph will be safe if I'm not here to protect her?"

"I don't know, Harry. I could make an argument either way."

"I'll ask her. Them. I've always had people making decisions for me. I'm not going to do it to them."

A few days later, Dobby brought Hermione's and Harry's emergency bags to the Shrieking Shack. The Greengrasses declined. "I agree that there are problems, Hermione, but this is all I've ever known. I'm not going to leave it. Where would I go? And I can count on Father to come and get us if there ever is a real problem and we're in danger."

Hermione and Harry exchanged frustrated grimaces. "We tried."

Luna was another matter entirely. A few days later she was back to her normal, carefree self.

"Luna, now that you've seen that the headmaster and your head of house won't do anything about your being bullied, do you want to come with Harry and me if we decide to leave Hogwarts early?"

"What do you mean, Hermione? I haven't spoken to the headmaster since last year, and I'm not being bullied. I'm very glad of that. On top of the pranksters hiding my clothes and books, I don't think I could handle bullies as well."

Harry nodded when Hermione told him. "Of course Dumbledore obliviated her. I don't know why I thought that stopping him once would be enough."

"I know. We'll continue to watch out for her. And … maybe you can prank Dumbledore. I'll help you think of something appropriate."

**...ooo000ooo...**

Hermione went home for Christmas, as usual. Harry was staying at the castle. He had put his name in to be leaving for the holiday but McGonagall had questioned him closely about his plans, not believing that he would willingly spend more time with the Dursleys. Harry being Harry, the new Harry, defiant and intolerant of the shortcomings of people in authority, questioned her on questioning him.

"She got angry when I asked her what she knew about how the Dursleys treated me and why she was pushing me to go back there when I left the castle. 'Never in all my years, blah blah blah, detention for disrespect, blah blah blah'. I guess she didn't get the memo. You thought she was mad before, you should have seen her after I told her I didn't do detentions anymore. Her lips were pushed together so hard she didn't have a mouth anymore and her face was as white as paper. No, it was more like parchment, kind of yellowish. She is really old, you know. Dealing with teenagers must be too much for an old witch like her."

"Really, Harry, grow up. She's not evil. Yes, she makes a lot of mistakes, but she isn't deliberately trying to hurt you, I'm almost sure. Childish taunts and defiance aren't accomplishing anything."

"But Hermioneeee, this is the only chance I've ever had to be childish. The old fart and his minions made sure of that. So isn't it fair that I'm the biggest, loudest three-year-old they've ever seen?"

"Hmmph. Think about this, Mister. Three-year-olds are much too young for sex. Should I tell Daphne to keep her distance lest she be accused of child abuse?"

"Hey! That's hitting below the belt."

"Exactly."

Harry was staying at the castle, permission to leave having been denied. Hermione had expected him to report yet another row with the headmaster or McGonagall over that but he simply told her it wouldn't be a problem, then winked and told her, "See you soon."

"Make sure to practice every day, Harry. Without classes, you should be able to get through most of the extra reading you haven't gotten to. I'll be checking on your progress when I get back. You don't want to disappoint me."

"Yes, Mistress Hermione. Are you sure you don't want a dominatrix outfit for Christmas? I could ask Winky to put it under your tree Christmas morning."

"Don't you dare! Oh, very funny, Harry. Do take care of yourself, and do keep up on your work."

Two days before Christmas, both Winky and Dobby appeared in the kitchen, giving Mrs. Granger quite a fright. Luckily, Hermione was there, getting an early breakfast. Months of waking up at five left her unable to sleep in despite her fatigue.

"Winky! Dobby! What are you doing here?"

"Winky is here to clean for youse, Mistress. Mistress's Harry told Winky he will stay in the Come and Go Room until Mistress tells Dobby to return."

"And Dobby is here to cook for youse today and tomorrow and tomorrow, Mister Harry's Grangy. Dobby is good cook, youse very happy."

Hermione's mother had never seen house elves before but quickly picked up on the important part. "A Christmas without having to cook or clean? Happy Christmas, indeed. Thank you, Hermione, and Winky and Dobby. And please thank Mistress's Harry for me, as well."

Harry appeared on their doorstep late Christmas morning, bearing a wrapped gift. "Am I interrupting? I can just drop this off if you have comp-_oomph_" Hermione stopped his babble by crushing his rib cage and then dragging him inside.

"I'm pleased to finally meet you, Harry. I'm Bettina Louise, or Betty-Lou, Hermione's mother, of course. Before this year, every other paragraph in Hermione's letters mentioned you. This year, every other sentence is about you. Just on that basis I'd like to talk to you, to find out more that hasn't been filtered through my daughter's clearly biased viewpoint. I also need to thank you very much for sending the elves. They've been a god-send."

"It's nice to meet you, too. You can just thank the elves. They're doing all the work and a little praise and thanks is like gold to them."

"And I'm Baalzebub. Yes, my family has a tradition of unusual names, as Hermione's name might suggest. Just call me Bubba. As my daughter is clearly obsessed with you, I think I'm supposed to pull you to one side now and make vaguely threatening statements while cracking my knuckles, but…" He held up his hands and Harry saw that the man's hands were long and thin, exactly what you'd want in a man who stuck his fingers in your mouth but not at all intimidating. "You see the problem. I don't think I've ever known a man who actually threatened his daughter's boyfriends, anyway. I think that happens only in cliched stories about over-protective parents and rebellious teens. Let's chat over a cider and we'll call it close enough."

"Thank you, sir. I'd like that, but it'll have to be a short glass. I need to get back to Hogwarts before lunch starts. The staff have been making head counts at every meal."

Hermione was belatedly puzzled. "How did you get here? Walk off the grounds, take the floo from Hogsmeade, and then apparate? Will you have time to get back before they look for you?"

"Don't worry, it won't take me too long to get back. As to how … Magic!"

Hermione wasn't deterred by her parents' presence from swatting Harry's arm, but he did manage to avert her righteous wrath by holding out her present. It was a hand-made desk plaque. _#1 Coach_.

"I do appreciate everything you do for me, Hermione. You're my best friend."

Hermione hugged him before grabbing his hand and dragging him to the stairs. "Come on up! I'll give you your present in my room."

She didn't need to see the shared glance between her parents. "Keep that door open, young lady!"

"I was going to give you this after morning training when I got back, but it goes too well with my plaque."

Harry opened a fancy parchment certificate. _Let it be known to all that Harry J Potter has successfully completed Phases I and II of the Granger Survival School._ "I appreciate you working so hard and doing more than I ask of you. You're my best friend, too."

Their hug and very pleasant kiss was rudely interrupted by a camera flash. "I knew it! I knew that was just an experimental phase with Kathleen." Hermione pushed the door closed on her mother's cheerleading, then went back to her friend. Her _friend_ who was a _boy_. After Harry apparated away on presumably the first leg of his return to the school, Hermione rejoined her parents. The feel of Harry's lips on hers would help her to endure her parents' good-natured ribbing.

**...ooo000ooo...**

They got back into the swing of training sessions and classes very quickly once school resumed in January. Harry had been training every day in the Room of Requirement, harder than when school was in session. Hermione had been working very hard, too, developing training plans and researching anything that was potentially useful. The resumption of classes was almost a break from their workload.

One evening near the middle of January, Hermione was working in the library with Harry, when he stiffened as he glanced at the Marauder's Map.

"Hermione! Grab my stuff, fourth floor, west wing." He dashed off before Hermione had a chance to do more than blink.

Hermione gathered up their books and papers and quills and ink and book bags and hurried as fast as she could. This was not the first time Harry had gone running off. Once he had gone because a group of Slytherin girls had cornered Daphne, though that encounter had resolved itself nonviolently without his needing to reveal his presence. The other time he had saved Luna from some bullying by her housemates. Avoiding the "mistakes" he made the last time he saved Luna from bullies, Harry had told the other Ravenclaw students to stop what they were doing, intimidating them with his glowering presence. He'd summoned "responsible" witnesses with a series of crackling booms in the corridor while reassuring the paralyzed Luna that everything would be all right. Prefect Granger arrived just as McGonagall and Dumbledore did, and witnessed the slap on the wrist for bullying – Five points each. Honestly! – and the fifty-point loss and the public chewing out Harry received for frightening younger students.

It was unfathomable to her what was going through Dumbledore's mind. If he were _trying_ to raise a generation of bullies who did not fear or respect authority and of sheep who were afraid to do anything without authorization, what would he be doing differently?

This evening, in January, by the time she got where Harry had directed her, it was all over. Harry was holding a crying Astoria. Crabbe, Goyle, and the fifth- and seventh-year Slytherin male prefects were unconscious and stuck to the walls. And Malfoy seemed to have been crushed. Literally, physically crushed, pressed flat into the wall.

"What happened? No, forget that. It's obvious what almost happened. How did it happen?"

"Hermione, I think that can wait." Harry blasted the sole portrait frame in the room, preventing its normal occupant from returning. "The teachers will be here any minute. Do we need to get our stories straight?"

It took Hermione only a moment to switch from being Harry's trainer and homework leader. Harry was tops in an emergency, with instincts much better than her own. She'd follow his lead.

"I don't think we do. No, wait. People saw you run from the library. You have to explain that. Can you say you have communications mirrors, or perhaps an alert bracelet?"

"Dobby! Please get me the broken communication mirror from my trunk. It's wrapped in a blue towel and should be toward the left side. Don't let anybody see you." It took Dobby just moments to return. "Thank you. Put the pieces outside this classroom, like someone knocked it from Astoria's hand. Thanks, Dobby. After that, go back to what you were doing, like we never called you. Okay, the portrait over there disappeared right after I came in and stopped these idiots. I'm sure it went to tell Dumbledore, or maybe Pomphrey. It'll report Astoria was –"

Dumbledore came rushing in, followed momentarily by Snape and Pomphrey. "Harry, what have you done? To kill a fellow student, before he could redeem himself…"

True to form, though quite reasonably, Pomphrey went to check on the crushed student, ignoring the living students and in particular the innocent near-victim. True to form, Dumbledore took care of the unconscious Slytherin boys first, releasing them and making sure they were lying comfortably on conjured cots. True to form, Snape rounded on Harry after a perfunctory glance at the situation.

"Potter, you've finally done it. Murdering a student will see you in Azkaban before morning. Give me your wand now. After putting up with your arrogance for six years, I deserve the pleasure of breaking it myself."

"Nothing doing, Snape. I know how Slytherin works, how you have your favorite students and you let them attack others and you cover it up to protect them. This time you've gone too far, Snape. You're going down."

Snape drew his wand to menace Harry. Harry's wand was in his pocket and he was seated on the floor with Astoria in his arms, but Snape felt the need to posture more dramatically. Or perhaps the Death Eater planned to attack a helpless opponent.

Foolish Snape, so focused on humiliating or harming Harry that he'd forgotten Hermione. She stunned him from behind just as Dumbledore "took notice" of the altercation.

"Miss Granger, I cannot accept students attacking professors, especially in my presence."

"He was about to attack Harry in your presence. You ignored Snape's insults just like you ignored him drawing his wand. And you haven't said a word about how you found a fourth year girl crying in a room with six older boys. If Harry hadn't stopped them, would you have let Snape cover that up just like everything else?"

"It is yet to be ascertained just what happened in this room, Miss Granger. All that is certain is that I found you, Mister Potter, and Miss Greengrass in a room with four unconscious students and another student who had been murdered. In the past few minutes I heard you insult a professor before and after attacking him. This is not the behavior we at Hogwarts expect of a prefect. I'll have your badge, Miss Granger."

Hermione slammed the prefect badge down on a desk. "I hope that anyone foolish enough to take the position after me loses it directly. If you won't allow a prefect to do her job, then you should be forced to do it yourself." It wasn't a formal curse. Driven by her controlled rage and the amount of magical power at her command, who knew what might happen.

Frowning, Dumbledore revived Snape who, predictably, immediately verbally attacked Harry. Hermione had stunned him, but he could see only the offspring of his childhood nemesis. "Potter, you'll be in detention every night for as long as you're at Hogwarts. You'll regret the day you met me."

"Drama queen, much? I don't do detentions, Snape, especially not with Death Eaters."

"That is hardly helpful, Mr Potter. We all are attempting to find the truth of what happened here. Some level of trust in and tolerance of each other is necessary.

"Miss Greengrass, as you were apparently at the center of the matter, please relate to me the sequence of events before Prof. Snape and I arrived."

"I want my father here. I am fifteen years old and entitled to have my parents present when I am questioned on any non-academic matter."

"It is late and, as you appear unharmed, I am sure your father would not appreciate being forced to come up to the castle at this hour. I am sure that tomorrow is soon enough to notify your parents. In the meantime, we here can arrive at the truth if you will cooperate with my request."

"Snooty!" A uniformed elf, presumably belonging to the Greengrasses, appeared. "Tell Father I have been attacked by Hogwarts prefects and professors and he should come immediately."

Dumbledore's lightning-quick wand work prevented Snooty from carrying out her orders. "Before we allow in any outsiders who may muddy the situation, it is incumbent upon us to first determine what has happened. I'm sure your family elf can find work here to keep her busy until that time."

As Dumbledore orated, Hermione had conducted a rapid, silent conversation with Harry. Hopefully he understood and would relay the instructions to Astoria as Hermione said, "Headmaster, are you saying that, despite the death of a student, you do not plan to call in the DMLE? And that in spite of an attempted rape by Malfoy and these others you will not allow the intended victim to speak with her parents?"

"Miss Granger, you are grossly mis-stating the situation. I need to know exactly what happened so that the investigators from DMLE can be steered in the correct direction and so that students who do not merit charges with serious crimes may, as necessary, be assigned appropriate in-school punishment. However, if you truly feel that I or Hogwarts do not meet your exacting standards, I will regretfully accept your withdrawal papers."

The three students exchanged glances. "I have nothing to say to you, Headmaster Dumbledore, except in my father's presence." "I saw nothing." "I'll talk to aurors – real aurors, not your pets – but not to anyone else."

Harry escorted the girls out of the room, ignoring Dumbledore's response. He carried Astoria's pack as well as his own and put an arm around her shoulders. Hermione hmmphed slightly as she and Snooty followed them, but she couldn't really object to the favoritism or to having to carry her own book bag. Harry's one arm was full with two book bags and Astoria was shaken and needed the comfort of his other arm.

A corridor away, Harry coated the only nearby portrait with half an inch of ice to prevent spying. "Stori, do you want to go home? I can get you out of here, but it will cause problems tomorrow when they find out."

"If you're not too upset, Astoria, it would be better for you to stay here. I would rather not give away more of our capabilities then we have to."

"I'm half upset and half frightened and half angry. I can stay here tonight and think of a way to inform my father."

"Is this your first brush with danger? That is, the first time you've been in danger of death or physical injury by violence?"

"It is. I have led a quiet, responsible life."

"You should expect mood swings and physical shakiness in the next few hours as the adrenaline comes down and emotional shock goes through you. Don't be surprised if you start weeping or shouting in rage. A Calming Draught would help, but I don't think going to Madame Pomphrey is a good idea right now. Maybe your elf can help you there. You shouldn't be alone tonight, either, as nightmares would not be unexpected." Hermione had a fair amount of knowledge regarding shock and its aftereffects, gained both from books and from unfortunate personal experience.

Hermione saw a bit of pink come up on Astoria's cheeks as she stood there, still in Harry's protective arm. "Could I spend the night with you, Harry?"

Plans flickered through Hermione's mind. "If you possibly can sleep with someone else tonight that would be better. Temptation and scandal aside" – and the girl's cheeks went from pink to flaming red – "there is something else Harry has to do tonight." She mouthed the word _later_ to Harry in response to his puzzled frown.

It being decided that her sister was the next-best choice, Astoria sent Snooty to find Daphne and have her meet them by the Slytherin dorms entrance so she could explain what had happened.

"Malfoy had his goons hustle me into a classroom, then all of them stood all around me. They were all so much bigger than I, even if Malfoy hadn't already broken my wand."

Hermione nodded to herself but didn't break Astoria's narrative. Physical intimidation _worked_. That's why people did it the world over.

"Malfoy was going on and on about how Harry was _his_ and I couldn't have him and he had put in his claim before I was even a student. He kept touching me and saying he was going to teach me a lesson because I had taken what was his. Don't worry, Harry, he was talking about pranking and harassing students from other houses, a Slytherin tradition. It was nothing sexual."

"Or maybe it was", Daphne put in with a light-heartedness that seemed inappropriate to Hermione. "Draco was a pureblood and maybe he wanted to keep it all in the family with his cousin."

"I warned you, Daphne. Now I have to do terrible things to you." The target of Harry's ire was singularly unintimidated, if the tongue circling her lips meant anything.

"Ahem! Excuse me, you two. Daphne, Astoria needs comforting more that you need Harry. Harry, you have work to do. Astoria, I'm so sorry for what you went through, but I'm glad you came through almost unscathed. Daphne and Astoria, you could help us by mentioning in front of other students or a portrait that Harry promised to find a way to contact your father."

Heading back to Gryffindor Tower, Hermione steered them into a nook with no portraits. "Harry, I hate to bring this up. You told me before that you thought you had a way to get to the Malfoys at home. If you are not too upset about Astoria and you are not too tired, if you can get to Narcissa, you should. As quickly as you can, before she can make a new will."

Harry looked at her steadily for a moment, then nodded sharply. "Dobby! Good evening, Dobby. Please bring me a thermos bottle of very strong coffee. I'll be going up to my dorm to change my clothes and grab my broom; you can meet me there. After that, find the Greengrass elf named Snooty somewhere here in the castle and find out how to get to the Greengrass house. Hermione will give you a message to take to Mr Greengrass. Hermione, I'll see you in the morning."

The morning brought two aurors and Mr Greengrass. Dumbledore was not happy to see them but the Greengrass girls had met their father at the main entrance and the headmaster could hardly deny them entrance at that point.

"Welcome to Hogwarts, gentlemen, though I regret the tragic necessity. Aurors, I'm certain you will wish to interrogate Harry Potter as the central character in Mister Malfoy's demise. He was not in his dorm last night but we may hope that he is the castle somewhere, contemplating his actions which resulted in another student's death. Mister Greengrass, you will wish to comfort your daughter. May I offer this anteroom? Do please be careful not to taint her testimony before the aurors interview her."

"We know how to conduct an investigation, Headmaster. We would appreciate you not interfering."

Hermione spoke up. "Would that be the anteroom with the portrait which has another copy in your office, Headmaster? Wouldn't that raise problems with confidentiality of interviews?"

"I'll thank you not to interfere, Miss Granger. As you are no longer a prefect and have no business here, be on your way."

"Hermione was a witness to Snape's attack on Harry while you stood and watched, Headmaster. I would think the aurors would want to talk to her, as well."

Hermione saw the aurors exchange sour looks. She didn't blame them. She hoped that they were assigned to this case because of competence and ability to resist Dumbledore's pressure rather than because they were incompetents who had annoyed their boss.

"Thank you, Headmaster. We'll find a classroom with no portraits and will be very careful with our privacy charms. Anyone trying to listen will be very unhappy. Ladies, if you would accompany us, please? Miss, ah, Granger, you may be accompanied by your head of house or your parents if you can get them here."

As it happened, Astoria whispered to her father and then Mr Greengrass volunteered to sit with Hermione during her interview. She had little to say about the primary investigation, as Draco Malfoy was dead by the time she arrived. The aftermath, which she was a major part of, was a different story. The aurors were very interested in Snape's and Dumbledore's actions and words. Perhaps there were a few worthwhile people in the magical world after all, even some worthwhile people working for the ministry.

Confirming that notion, Harry told her during lunch that the aurors were not exactly deferential, but certainly respectful. Without saying so, they gave the impression that they knew of some of his accomplishments and respected them. Ever suspicious, Harry assumed they were lulling him into complaisance, but they never tried Legilimency or even trapping him into damaging admissions.

The Dark Mark found on Draco's arm might have played some part. Aurors were dark wizard catchers, after all.

The aurors accepted Harry's tale of how he learned that his friend Astoria was in trouble when she was grabbed while talking on a communication mirror. He rushed in and stunned most of the boys from behind. Malfoy had put up a shield and was firing lethal spells. Harry cast a strong banisher to break the shield, but Malfoy's shield dropped just as the banisher reached him and it smashed him into the wall. After getting away from Dumbledore and Snape and taking Astoria to her sister, Harry took his broom and flew down to England to tell her father. He had returned just in time for the aurors to find him.

After getting caught up, they checked on Astoria and Daphne, and then Hermione watched as Dumbledore stopped Harry as they were leaving and the student yet again defied the headmaster.

"Yes, I left the Hogwarts grounds without your permission. Someone needed to contact DMLE about a death occurring in the course of an attempted rape. You were covering up what Malfoy was trying to do when he died and you were keeping law enforcement away until you arranged the story the way you wanted it. In a civilized country, that would be called interfering with justice and would make you a criminal. You were also preventing the victim's parents from finding out what happened. I don't know if that's criminal but it's reprehensible. No, I do not regret it and no, I will not do any detentions for it."

Once again, Hermione wondered if Dumbledore was senile or insane. Or if his brain was rotting from whatever dark magic permeated him. She was able to detect it easily now and she wondered how long he'd be able to keep it a secret. Whatever the cause, repeatedly confronting Harry in public and repeatedly coming out second best had to be the stupidest thing in the lengthy list of stupid things she'd seen him do.

Hermione brought Harry to the Room of Requirement right after dinner and before a regularly scheduled group study session in the library. Despite their extra-curricular tasks, they were still students, education was still important, and she insisted they keep up on their homework. She'd been avoiding coming to the room when other people were awake and about because she wanted to keep others from noticing that she was using it. Selfishly keeping it reserved all the time for her own purposes, in fact. It would be better for everyone to think the room was broken or that Dumbledore had locked it. However, the Room of Requirement had better privacy protection than any place else in the castle and she just knew this was going to be a dangerous conversation.

"Is the job done?"

"It's done. Better than we had hoped." Harry took her hands. "Hermione. I killed Dolohov. I cut his head off and left it lying on the ground. He's not coming back."

Hermione gasped, then threw herself weeping into his arms. She was still a target, still in danger, but Harry's words loosened a fist that she hadn't even realized had been gripped around her heart.

"Thank you, Harry, thank you, thank you." She kissed him gratefully on the cheek several times, and if a few of the kisses missed and got him on the lips, neither of them was going to mention it.

"Very well done. Let's hear your report, Harry. You know the drill: give me all the details you can, especially concerning things that went wrong, and we'll look at how we can make things better and safer for next time."

"Yes, General Granger, Ma'am." The cheeky bastard _would_ ride her that way. Hermione smiled. If nothing else, Daphne was good for his self-esteem and self confidence. The cheek she could do without, but it was a good trade-off. "The first step was finding Malfoy Manor. You were there and I'm sure you remember that Dobby was not able to tell us where the manor was because of the house elf bond magic. What you don't remember because you weren't there for was I asked Dobby who the neighbors were to the east and south and west and north. Two of the neighbors' addresses were in the public records and Dobby was able to legally get copies of the records for me. Don't worry, I disguised him first.

"Next, I went there to look at the wards. I'm pretty sure I could have just blasted through them but that would let everyone know I was coming. I made a map of what I detected. I didn't finish it, but I can give it to you if you want it.

"I looked at buying a magic disrupter like I read about somewhere or other, but the shopkeepers just laughed at me when I asked. I don't know what that's about.

"So then I had another idea. I just dropped a rock on the manor. Next to the manner, more like, but still in the center of the wards. And, it being so close to Christmas, you know, it was a big lump of coal that I dropped."

"I'm almost afraid to ask. How big a lump of coal?"

"A square – a cube, I mean – about seven feet across."

"Are you telling me you dropped five tons of coal on Narcissa Malfoy?"

"Closer to ten. I looked it up when I was calculating how big a lump to steal. So anyway, I shrank it and lightened it, flew up about a mile over the manor, then followed it down when I un-shrank and un-lightened it and dropped it. I put up a shield just in case of chunks coming up at me and at the last second put a silencing spell on my head. It's a good thing I did. I'd have been killed by coal and rocks coming back up and even through the silence spell the bang of the wards breaking was really loud. I was half-deafened. The sound broke all of the windows in the house. It knocked out their house elf, too. I'm glad it did. I wouldn't want to have to kill their elf just because its owners ordered it to attack. And with Dolohov and the elf and Narcissa all attacking me, it might have been too much."

It didn't occur to Hermione then, but it struck her later, just how much Harry had shrunk and lightened his "lump of coal". The usual weight-reducing charm reduced weight to perhaps a fourth of its normal value. Harry had achieved closer to a four-hundredth, and similarly with the bulk. Not for the first time, Hermione marveled at what she had accomplished with Harry.

"Once I was on the grounds, it was mostly easy. I found Dolohov right away. He came running outside to see what happened and I cut his arms off before he knew I was there. We need to put that in our training notes. I don't think I'll forget that but it's important: Don't run into a dangerous surprise without checking it out first if you can. So anyway, I cut off his arms so he couldn't attack me, then cut off his head once he was dead because I thought we could drop it at the DMLE offices or maybe you would want it as a souvenir. But I forgot to grab it when I left and it's too late now.

"Narcissa was harder to find. I used the find people spell but I must've been doing it wrong. It was just luck that I found her before she found me and that she didn't notice me when she was getting ready to floo out. I was disillusioned but I was tracking coal powder everywhere I went. I blasted the jar of floo powder out of her hand, but that was a bad shot because I was aiming for her head. So she turned around to fight but I got her wand before she even got it out. I don't know why I didn't kill her instead of summoning her wand. Maybe because she's a woman. We need to work on that, Hermione. Not many Death Eaters are women, but they're just as dangerous as the men. So she finished turning around and saw who I was. I think she was going to insult me but then she realized she was helpless. So instead she said I'd caught her but she could make it worth my while to let her go and she dropped her robes before I could say anything."

"She didn't!"

"She did. She got mad when I told her I had better waiting for me back at the castle. I was going to say that, even without Daphne, there wasn't enough soap to get her clean enough for me, but I didn't get a chance. She got mad and started to shout some really filthy insults but I hit her with a bone breaker and her body fell into the fireplace and disappeared. I guess some of the powder went into the fire when I shot the jar and I just didn't notice the green fire."

"Oh, Harry! I'm so sorry you had to do that. I know it's my fault for pushing you to train for –"

"Stop it, Hermione. It may have been your idea, but I agreed with you. You didn't force me to train and you never could have forced me to go to Malfoy Manor.

"We're in a war. You know that, I know that. All I did was kill enemy soldiers. Narcissa had the Dark Mark right on her arm. I saw it when she got naked. I didn't get around to mentioning that. We'd thought so but weren't sure. So all I did tonight was kill enemies. If I'd fought them 'fairly' there's no telling how many innocent people would have been hurt. And there's no telling how many innocent children they would have killed and tortured before the fair fight. Really, I'm fine."

Harry was lying, Hermione was sure of it. Or at least he was fooling himself.

"Even if you're 'fine', you shouldn't be left alone tonight. Do you want me to stay with you here in the Room of Requirement? Or would you rather spend the night with Daphne? I don't know her schedule or her plans, but I'm sure she'd be happy to slip you in tonight."

Her small joke got a small smile out of Harry. "I'd like to be with you, if that's okay. You understand me best. You're still my best friend."

Hermione was glad. Harry had done the deed but she was the one who sent him out to murder a woman in cold blood. She needed comforting herself.

After a mostly platonic night — Hermione was fairly sure that Harry was asleep when he groped her, though his ability to unbutton the front of her nightdress cast some doubt upon that notion — they resumed their discussion before breakfast.

"You're sure Narcissa Malfoy is dead? You said so at first last night but when you described the fight all you said was she went into the floo.

"Pretty sure. I hit her with a bone breaker as hard as I could and got her right in the neck. Her head exploded and her arms went in two different directions and her body and legs went into the floo. That's probably the best we could hope for without her head. I didn't think of it before, but if she died but no one noticed it, not officially, anyway, no one noticed it for a few days, someone could make a fake will leaving all of the Malfoy money to Voldemort. Or to Scrimgeour, for all we know. But with her body popping out of the floo somewhere, we can at least hope that someone will notice it and report it and recognize her. Ah, maybe that will work. I don't know if anyone would recognize her by her butt or her boobs."

Hermione bit back a catty remark. Harry was right, this was about the best result they could have hoped for. Possibly Harry should have dropped Narcissa's and Dolohov's arms and Dolohov's head in the middle of Diagon Alley, but that was the only improvement that occurred to her.

"That's horrific to think about and it must have been worse to see. Even if you think this isn't affecting you, Harry, I'm afraid it must be. In fact, I'd be more afraid if it isn't. Soldiers are sometimes trained to dehumanize their enemy in order to let an ordinary person kill without being tormented by the lives he takes, but it's very easy to take it too far."

"You're right. Of course you are. But think of my whole life. My whole life I've had to do hard things. When I was eight, I had to start hand-washing Petunia's underwear. Compared to that, killing a woman who wants to kill me is nothing."

Hermione gave Harry the stink eye. "That's not funny, Harry."

"No, it wasn't. And I wasn't really joking, just a little. All I'm saying is, my whole life I've had to do a lot of bad things, whatever I needed to do to survive. I can do this, Hermione."

She kept her peace, but Hermione resolved to keep an eye on Harry. It was a fine line to walk, making Harry hard enough to do what he had to do but not so hard that he'd be a threat afterward.

Through it all, she did understand what Harry was going through. She, too, was doing things that she hated to do but had to do. She hated manipulating her best friend, but it was _necessary_. She would do whatever she had to do and cry at night by herself.

**...ooo000ooo...**

Two days after Malfoy's attack on Astoria and his subsequent and consequent painful death, and the day after the auror interviews, Hermione was doing her homework in the library. Astoria was doing the same with a few of her year mates at the next table. Hermione and a few others had been keeping an eye on the younger girl. With no wand and not being big enough to be a brawler, Astoria was almost helpless in a school in which attacks on students were often ignored. Harry had begged off this duty, claiming that he would just make problems worse because he had been the one to kill Malfoy.

And, speak of the devil, here came Harry, trailing a group of students in Slytherin ties.

'Miss Greengrass, I'm sorry that you were caught up in Malfoy's so-called rivalry with me. I don't know what he hoped to prove by attacking you instead of me, but whatever it was, you didn't deserve it."

Astoria looked momentarily puzzled, but played along. "Your apology is unneeded but welcome, Mr Potter. We were both caught up in Mr Malfoy's power games."

"That's true, but it left you hurt and without a wand. I've hired a few of your classmates to watch out for you at least until you get another wand. You know Duane and Eveline, of course. They're in all of your classes. They'll watch out for you during class. Vin and Greg here have years of experience as bodyguards. They'll walk you between classes and watch out for you at meals and such. I understand that you might, ah, have some doubts about them working with you, considering a couple of nights ago. I've talked to them about it, and it was strictly business. They were working for Malfoy then. They're working for you now. And I made sure everyone knows there's, ah, a substantial penalty for betrayal of trust."

The younger girl nodded slowly. "Misters Crabbe and Goyle, are you willing to promise that you will not work against me without at least one week's notice?" The two nodded without speaking. "I can accept that."

"I've hired them all for you until June, if you want them that long. Even if you don't, please keep them at least until you get another wand. I'd hate for anything more to happen to you."

The prices charged by the bodyguards varied, as Harry described it to Hermione. The Fourth Year students wanted a bit of tutoring, a bit of money, and cordial relations with Harry on the chance that he defeated You-Know-Who. Crabbe and Goyle wanted money but their main pay was Harry's promise to try not to kill their fathers. Hermione was skeptical about their loyalty when Harry told her the details, but it seemed that Draco's erstwhile followers hadn't liked him at all and did his bidding only because the Malfoy family had kept their fathers out of prison and paid the sons' Hogwarts fees. As for the younger bodyguards, their attempts to play it smart, helping the proclaimed Chosen One but not declaring themselves opposed to the proclaimed Dark Lord, persuaded Harry that they were clever enough to be useful.

Hermione was impressed that Harry had been able to arrange all this not only without her help but without her noticing and in only one day. She felt slightly annoyed, to be honest, that he had done it without her. They were working together and he should let her know everything so that they could make maximum use of their resources. But to be completely honest, Hermione had to admit to a tiny sense of loss that Harry didn't completely depend on her anymore. She told herself to grow up and promised not to let bad thoughts in when Harry was doing so well.

Two days later, Harry told Astoria's bodyguards that he'd be responsible for her until she returned to the Slytherin common room, then he took her to get a new wand. This wasn't exactly a trip sanctioned by the responsible adults, but the castle was completely lacking in responsible adults so Harry didn't worry about it. They both had a free afternoon and she was crippled without a wand. Afterward, they met with their friend and sister so she could show it off.

"Snape should have taken me or arranged for someone else to do so. It's one of his responsibilities as head of house. But of course he told me, 'I am much too busy dealing with the aftermath of your associate's unpunished murder of a fellow student. You will have to do without.' "

Of course that was just an excuse. Snape was being his usual childish self. Everyone over the emotional age of six understood that.

"Harry took me off the school grounds and –"

"How? How did he do it? I've been after him for weeks to tell me, but he just says 'Magic!' "

"I'm sorry, Hermione. Harry made me promise not to tell."

"Honestly, Harry! You did that just to annoy me, didn't you?" Harry just winked at her, leaning back and looking very pleased with himself.

"It's not a super power only Harry has. Believe me, when you find out how he does it, you'll kick yourself."

That only made it worse! Damn him anyway!

Astoria showed off her new wand, from a lesser-known craftsman off the main alley. Holly, eleven inches long. It was outwardly identical to Harry's Ollivander wand except for the signs of six years of use.

Harry's wand, taken out for comparison, showed six years of use and indifferent care. "Yah, the wand maker gave me some grief about that and made me buy this wand care kit."

"Don't I polish your wand enough for you, Harry?" And, right in front of her sister and Hermione, Daphne proceeded to give his wand a spit-shine that any young wizard would be proud of.

"The core is different," Astoria continued as Harry watched. He couldn't be jealous of his wand, could he? "His has a phoenix feather but mine has a feather from a magical snowy owl."

That stumped Hermione. None of the symbolic or mystical meanings of owl feathers fit Astoria very well, so the only sense that she could make of it was the relationship to Harry's pet. Or perhaps it was simply a coincidence.

"Thank you again, Harry. I'll pay you back as soon as I get more money. I don't want to have to ask my parents for more," she explained to Hermione, "because I'm supposed to be learning to budget, including keeping some aside for emergencies. My expenses this year were much higher than expected. Given that my expenses were higher because I was working to make your life miserable, Harry, I feel awkward accepting a loan from you."

"I told you before, it wasn't a loan. Even though you're doing your best to make me miserable, it's helping me, so I'm glad to help you. And even without that, I – Ah, never mind. Anyway, you shouldn't have had to pay for a replacement wand. Malfoy should have had to, but he couldn't because I killed him."

"As if Snape and Dumbledore would have made him pay regardless." Hermione was disgusted. Even after his death, Malfoy got special exemptions from the rules.

"I'm jealous, Harry. Why haven't you ever taken me out on a date?" Daphne's tone was light-hearted, but Hermione thought she saw a glint of something in her eye.

"Ah, well, it never really came up. You never said you were interested and that you were just in this for the fun and we're not really dating, are we, just working together and having fun, a lot of fun, and I was in detention for the only Hogsmeade weekend since we started working together and this wasn't a date, I just took Stori to get a wand."

"Relax, Harry. Breathe. Daphne was just kidding, weren't you, Daphne?"

"Ah, yes. Of course." There was no mistaking it, that _something_ was glinting again. Was Daphne really jealous? She'd mentioned many times over the weeks that this was just a lark to her, a safe way to have fun, a way to help her sister, nothing more, nothing serious. Perhaps she was convincing herself more than Astoria and Hermione?

Harry leaned over to Daphne and handed her a package he'd pulled from his pack. "It wasn't a date, but it wasn't right to only buy Astoria something when I'm, ah, sleeping with you. No, don't open it now!"

Too late. Daphne had torn into the wrapping paper like a wood chipper. "The gift for the woman who has everything? How thoughtful, Harry." She held up a set of wrist and ankle restraints, a high quality leather set with comfortable fur lining. "Who wears them, you or me?"

"Ah, the book suggested taking turns and see who likes what."

"Book? What book?"

"A book Hermione loaned me. It has lots of suggestions and she marked the _ouch_!"

"I'm sure no one needs to hear the details, Harry. Just let Daphne enjoy what you're learning."

Daphne looked curious about the book. Harry looked as if he weren't sure she liked her gift. Daphne looked as if she weren't sure she liked her gift. "Right. Moving right along, I thought it wasn't fair to buy Astoria something practical and Daphne something fun –" He was interrupted by snorts from at least two of the three young women with him. "– something fun, so I found something fun for Astoria. Don't worry. It's safe to open."

Astoria daintily opened the wrapping to find a cute little bracelet. "Thank you so much! I wasn't hinting for you to buy it for me when I admired it on Diagon Alley, but thank you." She held out her wrist for Harry to fasten on the jewelry, then hugged him in appreciation.

"It's not just fun, there's a charm on it to detect potions in food. It detects helpful potions, too, so it's not perfect, but if you're not expecting anything it'll keep you from being surprised." Astoria beamed, then gave him another hug and a kiss on the cheek.

"But then I thought that Daphne could use something, too." Another package was handed over and swiftly shredded. "The shop didn't have another bracelet but these earrings will buzz if a spell is cast behind you. If you have good ears you can tell if it's heading toward you or not, the shopkeep said." Daphne gave Harry a warm and appreciative hug and a brief grope. She wasn't exactly his girlfriend, but as the girl who was sleeping with him she could take liberties which would be inappropriate for her sister, and the earrings made up for the handcuffs.

"But then I thought that Daph had gotten two real presents and Stori got just one because the wand is a tool, not a present, so I got Astoria this package of sugar quills she likes so much, but while I was in the sweets shop I got Daphne some of the chocolates she likes. And then I just gave up trying to keep things even."

"Harry, I hope there's a present in there for your oldest friend. Your friend who's been with you through thick and thin? Your friend who hasn't received a gift today?"

"Of course, Hermione. What do you take me for? I got a big bag of owl treats for my best girl while I was out."

Hermione's growl set Harry to laughing. She suppressed her irritation because it wasn't fair to Harry, nor to Daphne or Astoria nor even Hedwig. She wasn't dating him and had no real claim on his affections.

On the other hand, it was understandable that Hermione thought of him as hers. Except for his one date with Weepy McHosepipe, Hermione had been the only girl in Harry's life for five years. She'd unconsciously accepted this as the natural state of affairs, but it wasn't fair for her to be jealous of the others, especially since she didn't want him for herself, not even if he was her best friend and was becoming quite impressive as a man and as a wizard and really was quite attractive, for a boy, and the nights she had spent with him had been the best sleep she'd had in ages, and the love-making really was quite nice, for a boy. She definitely did not want him for herself, even though he was the only man she could see herself with.

"Don't worry, Hermione." Harry's voice pulled her out of her muddled thoughts. "I got you presents, too. On the practical side, a pair of earrings like Daphne's and a set of books on coaching. There was a whole section of them in the non-magical bookstore. I'd never have guessed. And, yes, I know you know how to detect spells by casting a spell but this way you don't have to do that all the time. And I think the earrings would look good on you even if they weren't magic. For the fun side, I didn't get you sugar quills because you're always nagging at me about the sugar I eat, so I got you a pre-paid cell phone. You have to go to the far side of the Black Lake to get a signal but it does work. I already checked." Hermione's hug made up in crushing power what it lacked in accompanying kisses and gropes.

"And there's one more present for all of you. Two presents, really." Harry now had the full attention of all three girls. All of his presents so far, except maybe for the sex toys, had been well thought out and much appreciated. "The hair place in Hogsmeade, Miss B's, has a special room in back. Spa treatment something-or-other, she called it. I paid for all three of you to get their top treatment next Hogsmeade weekend, as a thank you for all you've done to help me. They can only fit in two at a time for some of the things, so I'll walk around Hogsmeade with whoever's not getting the treatment, wherever you want to go, even Madame Puddifoot's." All three girls piled on Harry and he got a full day's quota of hugs, gropes from an indeterminate number of hands, and kisses, though only Daphne's tongue found its way into his mouth.

"How'd you get to be such a good boyfriend, Harry? None of us is even your girlfriend and you're treating us all better than any of the boys in the castle are treating their girlfriends."

"You taught me, Stori. A bit of Hermione and Daph, too, but it's mostly you. Pay attention to the people around you, pay attention to what they want, and offer it to them or keep it from them. I like all three of you and I want to thank you, so of course I'm giving you what will make you happy."

Hermione was gob-smacked. Harry had learned practical psychology and politics? But then she kicked herself. Just because she had been unable to learn it, didn't mean Harry was unable.

It was getting near curfew, so the group headed toward the Slytherin dorms first.

"Tell me, Harry, how ever did you manage to get all this? You were with me the entire time we were gone." Astoria had eyes only for her bracelet. Rolling her own eyes, Daphne took her sister's elbow and steered her around obstacles.

"Think about what I've been learning, Stori. If I can get into someplace without anyone noticing, I can leave someplace without anyone noticing. Well, I think the wand maker saw me leave and come back, but he's just as creepy as Ollivander anyway. Normal people like you don't see me if I don't want you to. And I can apparate and move really fast, so I only needed to be gone a couple of minutes at a time. Dobby helped, too. He found Daphne's first gift. I'd never seen an elf blush before."

"Traumatizing your house elf aside, are you telling me you can apparate all the way from London to Hogsmeade? Or did you floo?" Hermione was flabbergasted. Most wizards could apparate fifteen or twenty miles easily, fifty or so with effort and increased risk of splinching. She'd never heard of anyone able to go four hundred miles, even taking it in smaller steps.

"I apparated in one jump. And yes, before you nag me about it, Little Miss Curiosity Box – _ouch!_ – I know that's a lot farther than most wizards can go, and no, I wasn't tired when I was done. And yes, I side-alonged Astoria to London and back."

Hermione thought about this. Amazingly powerful apparation couldn't be "the power he knows not", could it? She'd think of ways he could use it.

Parting ways in the dungeons, Daphne hugged Harry and stage-whispered, "Come to me tonight. I have a new toy that needs to be broken in." She made sure to whisper it loudly enough for Astoria and Hermione to hear, the bitch. Hermione might not have any interest in quite everything that Daphne got up to with Harry, and certainly not anything involving restraints, but that didn't mean she wanted to spend every night alone. Perhaps she should ask him to come to her bed every now and again, not for sex, just to share a bed. He'd been having trouble waking up in time for their morning training sessions, he was so busy and so tired lately. If they slept together she could get him up in time. And if he wanted more, well, he was her best friend. She wouldn't mind doing him a favor.

Astoria looked as if she were having her own thoughts about Daphne's whisper. One moment she would look quite cross at her sister and the next she'd have an uncharacteristically dopey smile as she looked between Harry and her new bracelet. Yet another thing to watch out for, Hermione thought as she dragged Harry out of Daphne's arms and headed toward Gryffindor tower. Harry might be able to get around undetectably, but she had to be in the common room by curfew.

Safely back in the Gryffindor common room, Hermione pulled Harry to a quiet corner to interrogate him about yet another thing that was bothering her. "Harry, why did you buy Astoria a wand? Sneaking her out of the castle and buying a wand is a bit excessive for a favor for a casual friend. And that's on top of the bracelet. Are you feeling guilty about Astoria's wand being broken?"

"No, not at all. That was all Malfoy, not my fault at all. I know what you're thinking. At the beginning of summer I really beat myself up over Sirius's death. I thought of every mistake I made and everything I could have done differently and I convinced myself that it was all my fault.

"But after a couple of weeks I stopped feeling sorry for myself. I stopped _feeling_ and started _thinking_. Long story short, even before Dumbledore came to visit, I realized that the Dursleys had brought me up to take the blame for everything that went wrong. I don't know why I didn't realize it years ago, but the people who always blame me are all jerks: the Dursleys, Snape, Ron when he's in one of his moods. Even Dumbledore, sort of. Jerks. Why should I listen to them? They've never given me a fair break and they're not looking out for me even if they're supposed to. To hell with them all."

"That's very mature reasoning, Harry. I'm surprised. Oh, I'm sorry! That didn't come out quite the way I intended. But if you don't feel guilty about Astoria's wand, why did you buy her a replacement? It's not a trivial amount of time and money. For that matter, neither was her bracelet. Harry, are you feeling attracted to Astoria?"

"No! No no no no no. She's just a friend. It was just a thank-you for helping me. Exactly the same as for you and Daphne, nothing more."

The laddy doth protest too much, methinks, Hermione thought, but let it drop. "What about Daphne? You're sleeping with her. You're sleeping with her tonight, if you accept her invitation. Harry, it's perfectly normal to develop feelings when you sleep with someone. It would be unusual if you did not. And I'm virtually certain she's developing feelings for you even if she denies it."

"No, she doesn't. She told me. Daphne's just a friend, too. A very fun friend, but just a friend. I talked to her a while ago because I was getting, you know, feelings, just like you said. She set me straight that this is just for fun, so I should enjoy it while it lasts and not look too deep."

"I don't know if I quite believe that, Harry. Just be careful. Don't get hurt, and don't hurt Daphne. And don't hurt Astoria, either. You're the boy, the young man, she's worked with the most in her entire life. I know for a fact that she respects you tremendously. She's just the right age to develop her first serious romance on an impressive, slightly older boy. I'm so sorry. I wasn't thinking about possible love triangles when I arranged for training with the Greengrass sisters. Do please be careful, Harry. Any of you could be hurt."

Hermione didn't think to mention the effects of a romantic triangle on Harry's training, which would have possible effects on her safety. To her credit, she was thinking only of possible heartbreak if three girls were interested in the same boy. Two girls. Three people. If two girls were interested in one boy.

Harry thanked her and gave her a quick hug – getting "touchy" with Daphne had helped him in that regard, at least – and headed up to clean up and change his clothes. He wasn't headed for a date, exactly, but according to both himself and his "date" they were satisfied with it.

Hermione was a little jealous of Daphne. She admitted it in the quiet of her own mind, then ruthlessly stomped on it.

**...ooo000ooo...**

The boink bunnies arrived together, smiling and bouncy, toward the end of breakfast, sat close together at the Hufflepuff table after a brief glance around the room, and ate ravenously. Harry had made it to training that morning but Hermione let him leave early. "Harry! Pay attention! That last fire blast would have taken your face off if I hadn't shielded it for you. Watch your opponents, not the door. Oh, never mind. Just go. I'm sure she's waiting for you."

Hermione stopped by the Hufflepuff table briefly before she headed to class. "Is something wrong with your wrists, Daphne? I've noticed you rubbing them as you eat."

Daphne didn't answer except for a blinding smile before she returned to wolfing down her second plate.

"I take it you decided you like your present? Qualms all assuaged?"

"Best boyfriend ever!" Daphne proclaimed before catching herself. "Ah, that is, he's not …"

"Mr Potter, can you explain to my satisfaction why you did not spend the night in your bed?" McGonagall's strident tones cut off Daphne's back-tracking.

"Bed checks for sixteen-year-olds? Performed by an unmarried woman? That's disturbing. Ugh. Does Snape do bed checks of the Slytherin girls? That's _really_ disturbing."

Daphne's look of horror was mirrored on the faces of the Hufflepuff girls watching the conversation.

"Professor McGonagall, I really need to know: do the heads of house perform bed checks? Does Professor Snape?"

"Calm yourselves, Ladies! Mr Potter, there was no need for you to provoke your fellow students. There is no need for you to cause trouble every day this year."

That was a mistake. Hermione knew it even before Harry's face hardened. Dumbledore wasn't the only adult in this school who was senile or insane.

"You just told me that you came looking for me in my bed last night, and _I'm_ the one causing trouble? I'm still waiting, Professor? Did you come to the boys' dorm last night, expecting to be able to look at me while I was sleeping?"

"That's ten points and detention tonight with me, Mr Potter. Never in all my years have I been so insulted!"

Harry smirked at her. "I caught you doing something immoral, you're embarrassed at being caught, and now you give me a detention?"

McGonagall's tight face showed was angry but controlled herself. "The headmaster sent me to fetch you to his office to explain your absence yesterday afternoon. The fact remains that you were not in your bed last night. School rules state that students are to sleep in their beds unless they are in the infirmary."

"Why did the headmaster want me so late? Asking me about that could have waited until morning. It's almost like he's trying to interfere with the education I'm paying for. But, anyway, it's all right. I didn't sleep last night, so I didn't need to be in my bed."

"I do not appreciate your working to find loopholes in the rules, Mr Potter. The rules exist to promote a good education and to protect the students. Subverting those goals is not in anyone's interest. The school rules also have morality clauses to protect the virtue of the young women entrusted to our care by their families. Perhaps we need to check Miss Greengrass's whereabouts the next time you claim to have had a sleepless night."

Harry took a deep breath while Daphne gasped as McGonagall raised the stakes. "I have never been caught in a broom closet with any of my friends. So far as I know, neither has Daphne Greengrass. You are coming very close to unforgivable insult to one of my friends. Draco Malfoy was the last person to do that." And now it was Hermione's and McGonagall's turn to gasp as the stakes were raised again.

Luckily, Harry's training in keeping his temper let him reign it in. "But we aren't there yet." Another deep breath. "I'm interested in this rule book. I'm sure we'd find all sorts of interesting things. Things like sending firsties into the Forbidden Forest at night, professors insulting students and destroying their work, covering up evidence of crimes. All sorts of things. Hermione, would you be interested in helping me with some research?"

"No, Harry. I'm not going to help you find ways to break rules and annoy the professors or get them in trouble." As McGonagall gave her a tight-lipped nod of approval, Hermione continued, "Though if you find any on your own, I encourage you to share your research with other students. Rules are rules, after all, and must be followed even if they are inconvenient to the professors."

Hermione continued to watch everything as the confrontation petered out with no real conclusion. McGonagall was very angry at Harry's refusal to bend to her will, but she had nothing to threaten him with. Years of finger-pointing and lies – tolerated by the Hogwarts staff and the ministry – had left him utterly indifferent to what people thought of him. He had no real need to stay at Hogwarts, other than to be with his few friends. Without peer pressure and the threat of expulsion, the professors' toolbox was almost empty.

For his part, Harry was completely unyielding and he deliberately increased the conflict whenever confronted by authority figures. The latter was understandable, given that he'd been let down by authority figures his entire life and yet they continued to attempt to exert their authority over him. The unyieldingness was good when training and in a fight. He pushed himself harder than anyone could ask and had the results to show for it. When life wasn't on the line, however, it was a bad trait.

It was a difficult balancing act. Hermione had encouraged Harry to be hard as part of getting him ready to defeat Death Eaters and Voldemort. It might let him win but caused problems in day-to-day life.

With any luck, Harry would have a quick victory. If she could persuade him to return to Hogwarts next year, she could work to make him a better-adjusted individual, suited for ordinary society rather than war. She could bring in Astoria to help. Astoria was a smooth operator, getting things done without banging heads, and Harry liked and respected her.

Plans made as best she could, Hermione accompanied Harry and Daphne to class. Daphne was quiet and kept a bit of distance from Harry, not brushing hips as when they'd entered the Great Hall.

"McGonagall's threat about morals clauses wasn't just a threat. There are stories about girls who were pulled from school by their families for causing a scandal. That's probably what happened to Sally Perks."

Sally-Anne Perks had been an early bloomer and even as a firstie had quickly developed a reputation with the older boys. Then one day she was gone and none of the teachers ever mentioned her again. It was as if she'd never existed past her sorting.

"If you're pulled out of Hogwarts and are living a life of shame because of me, I'll take care of you. I can't put you in a manor house but you'll have food and clothes. Well, not when you're chained to the bed."

"La la la! I can't hear you!" Hermione exclaimed, covering her ears. It wasn't that the topic was disturbing to her delicate ears – in fact, she and Astoria would no doubt grill Daphne for all the sordid details later – but the sweet sincerity of Harry's offer rubbed in the fact that she was sleeping alone. Or not-sleeping alone.

Work. She could focus on her work. She had training plans to prepare. She could do it tonight. When she was alone. Dammit!

**...ooo000ooo...**

Harry came storming into Astoria's dorm room very early one morning. He stormed silently, of course. Months of practice made stealth second nature.

Hermione knew why he was so angry. She sympathized with him, really she did, but this was all a part of his training. He had to be strong enough and hard enough to do anything necessary, no matter how terrible, no matter how stomach-turning, to defeat Voldemort. Still, what Astoria had done was vile. Beyond the pale. Unhygienic.

Flipping wandless stunners and silencers at the dorm's other occupants, Harry went straight to his sleeping nemesis. He was intimately familiar with her bed, of course, from prior adversarial encounters. He shook her shoulder roughly, in no mood to wake her gently.

"Good morning, Nemesis. I knew you'd be able to do it." Astoria pulled his head down and took the wind out of his sails with a smoldering kiss.

"Break! Swap in the stunt double." Hermione interrupted the action just in time. Astoria was dragging Harry into bed with her and Harry wasn't resisting as much as he should, considering that she was still under-age and that she had previously stated her preference to abstain from premarital intimacy and that he was being watched by the woman he slept with regularly and the woman he slept with occasionally.

"C'mon, loverboy. Let's get you cleaned up, then we can get dirty." Daphne was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed even at this hour. Anticipation, no doubt. Hermione and Astoria exchanged grumpy glances. _They_ weren't getting any this morning.

As she left the dorm room to doss down in the Slytherin common room, Astoria told Daphne, "Remember to have the elves change the sheets this time. Do you know how disgusting it is to climb into bed and have the sheets be sticky? When it was your own sister who got them sticky?" Wasted breath. Neither Daphne nor Harry was listening.

Hermione chatted with Astoria for a while before heading up to her cold bed. "How did you get Harry's wand into Snape's dirty underwear pile? Did you reach in and just stuff the wand in?" She didn't really want to think about it but couldn't not ask.

"Ewww! Ewww! Gross! Don't say that! I never touched it! I borrowed Harry's cloak and just followed Snape into his quarters. Considering how much everyone hates him and would like to see him hurt, he has no sense of security. Harry gave me a wards map of Snape's rooms, but I didn't need it. The traps were only on the door and a few desk drawers. And I'm sure Harry would not have given either to me, had he known why I needed them. Once I was in, I waited until Snape went into the shower – and that sight has scarred me for life, I am sure – then simply levitated all of his dirty drawers out of the clothes hamper and tossed the wand under them."

"What was the purpose of doing this? I could understand if Harry were really your enemy, but you've shown no sign that you hate him and every sign that you like him very much."

"Put up a privacy charm, please. The real reason was that I hoped Harry would kill Snape, out of horror or because it was the only way to get his wand back. Or even because the safe opportunity was there. Frankly, I didn't care why it was done so long as it was done."

"Why would you want Harry to kill Snape? Aside from the obvious, that is."

"Because of his 'Defense' classes. Both Eveline and Duane have been badly injured in the constant duels. Eveline lost an eye to a dark cutter from one of Snape's pets and Duane breathed in some acid mist for which Snape 'just happened' to run out of antidote. I've been injured as well, though not as badly. Harry has been giving me some private lessons, which helped enormously. I did consider ambushing Snape myself in his quarters, but I'm sure I'm not good enough to beat him even by surprise."

Setting aside her wonderment that Harry actually found time in the day to give Astoria private lessons, Hermione was not happy. "Astoria, please do not go around using Harry as your personal weapon. Harry is, in fact, a human being with his own thoughts and desires. And he hates, utterly hates, to be used and manipulated."

The hypocrisy burned. Hermione kept it off her face.

"Furthermore, Harry and I are conducting a campaign to remove Death Eaters. I am attempting to schedule and arrange the deaths so Harry will not be blamed. Extra operations like this endangers the entire campaign."

"I understand. I'm sorry. I won't do it again. I will apologize to Harry as soon as Daphne is done with him."

"I wouldn't. He might not have noticed you were setting him up, and bringing it to his attention will only increase his distrust. Apologize if he mentions it. I'll send him to you if he says anything to me."

"Thank you. To change the subject, how did you get Harry's wand away from him?"

"I just told him to give me his wand because there would be a test where I didn't want him to have it. I'm worried that he's still trusting enough to trust me like this, but it's helpful in his training."

"Don't worry. You're the only one he trusts that much. He certainly won't trust me after this. I wish… Well, I won't abuse what you tell me. I want Harry trained up to kill You-Know-Who just as much as you do."

"Maybe even more? I saw that kiss. Are you going to be able to keep your focus as his designated nemesis?"

"Yes. I agreed to help him win, and a Greengrass always does her duty."

**Credits**: The kernel idea for this story did indeed come from Rorschach's Blot's _Odd Ideas_. See FFN story 2565609, chapter 112, then search for "Rivals".


	4. Chapter 4

Harry smiled as he read an owl-delivered letter at breakfast. To be sure, he had been smiling all morning, even through the rigors of the workout. Hermione's nights with Harry may not have been as energetic and inventive as Daphne's, but they were tender and sweet and Hermione had come to look forward to them.

"Good news, I take it?"

"The Black inheritance finally cleared. Van Leuven came through for us. The money issues haven't been settled yet because of taxes and stuff, but the house is mine. That means the library is mine. Do you want to go take a look this evening?"

"Oh, Harry, you do know how to sweet-talk a girl, don't you? Will Daphne be upset if I steal you away from her two evenings in a row?"

"Why would she be? But we can bring Daph and Stori if they want to come."

And, speaking of Astoria, she was approaching the Head Table, Crabbe dutifully trailing her.

"Professor McGonagall, may I speak to you this morning? It's important and rather urgent."

"I will be departing the castle directly after breakfast, Miss Greengrass. I'm afraid that here and now is my only available time until tomorrow evening. Could it wait or can you talk to your head of house?"

"No! Professor Snape is what I have to talk to you about."

Hermione, from her vantage point near the Head Table, where she and Harry had taken to eavesdropping on the professors, saw Astoria brace herself.

"Deputy Headmistress, I have to make a complaint about Professor Snape. All of my underthings went missing two days ago. I thought it was a prank but no one gave them back or teased me about it. Last night I asked the housekeeping elf if she knew what happened. She found that they're all in Professor Snape's quarters and that she cannot retrieve them."

Hermione was very surprised. Less by Snape's being a creepy stalker — there were rumors, and she'd heard stories from Harry about his mother's youth, and Snape just looked and acted like a creepy stalker — than by one of Babblemouth Brown's rumors being almost true. Just yesterday, after Parvati had lost her position as prefect for grievous abuse of authority, Lavender had commiserated with her by sharing the latest gossip. Gossip about Snape and his obsession with Daphne Greengrass. "It totally makes sense! Snape's been giving her detention after detention, making her work hard so she'll get sweaty. You just know he's perving on her."

McGonagall frowned and waved Snape over. She then noticed Hermione and Harry watching intently, frowned again, and put up a silencing charm. Hermione couldn't hear the words but could see vehement accusations, finger pointing and arm waving, and the beginning of a temper tantrum. That was just Snape. For her part, Astoria didn't show any signs of anger. Maybe Mrs Greengrass had taught both daughters the techniques which became Daphne's Ice Queen mask.

Dumbledore arrived and entered the bubble and things visibly went worse for Astoria. Hermione was expecting it, so she could read "full faith in Professor Snape" when it came to Dumbledore's lips.

She got Crabbe's attention. He had been standing patiently. "Here, have a seat. You might as well eat. It looks like a long argument."

Luckily, Daphne came in before Astoria could be fully browbeaten by at least two of the adults talking to her. And "luck" it was. Hermione needed to make more coins like last year so that any of their group of friends could call Harry or Hermione for help. It was sloppy of her not to have thought of it before.

Daphne walked into the bubble McGonagall had erected, standing in for her parents when her underage sister was being browbeaten by adults in positions of authority. Harry accompanied her up and stood just outside it, thinking of propriety for once, but glaring at Snape and Dumbledore. Hermione had no doubt he had pierced the silence with just a thought and was following every part of the discussion.

After a bit more gesticulating, McGonagall waved Sprout over, then hurried toward the castle exit. Snape, Sprout, and the Greengrasses left the Great Hall together, Crabbe rushing to catch them. Dumbledore, for his part, sat tiredly at the table and ate one-handedly.

"What was that all about?"

"You'll see. It'll be fun, if Dumbledore doesn't interfere."

DADA classes were cancelled for the day. Hermione was just as glad. She was familiar with the duelling styles and tricks of all of her classmates and had not learned anything in class in at least a month. She could put her time to better use in the library.

As it happened, Hermione spent the canceled class time in her bed.

"Hey, Sleeping Cutie! Wake up! Transfiguration is in ten minutes."

"Oh! Thank you, Harry. I've been so tired lately, and someone kept me awake half of last night. And what are you doing in the girls' dorm during the day? Go on, shoo!"

Astoria came storming over to the Gryffindor table at dinner, grabbing Harry by the collar and attempting to lift him away from the table. Of course, the slight girl didn't have the physical strength to actually pick him up and Goyle was understandably reluctant, but Harry went along with her physically-expressed request. Hermione was tempted to stay in the Great Hall for the joy of watching Snape while the students whispered and laughed and covertly looked at him, but she grabbed her book bag and followed. It was mostly from curiosity about what Astoria was up to but she also wanted to make sure Harry wasn't murdered. She'd never seen Astoria look so close to angry before. She, Goyle, and Daphne trailed along behind as Harry was dragged to an available room.

"Harry, you owe me a shopping trip. Now!"

"I do? Is this for some reason a male mind could comprehend or is it because I took you shopping once before?"

"I'm not joking! I haven't had any underthings to wear for days. Even now that I got them back from Snape, I can't wear them. He might have touched them or my underthings might have touched his. Ewww! I have to burn them."

"You poor girl. Walking around in a skirt and robe in this cold, drafty castle in the Scottish winter. You must be feeling a bit of a breeze down there. _Ouch!_ Why do you keep hitting me, Hermione?"

"I smack you because it's the only way to knock any sensitivity into your head."

"I finally deduced that it must have been you, not Snape, who stole my clothes and hid them in Snape's rooms. And you know I don't have the money to buy new! So now you owe me a shopping trip."

"OK, OK, you caught me. You have to admit, it was only fair. You stuck my wand in Snape's dirty drawers. Bleh! I had to teach you a lesson. Let's make a deal: no matter what we do to or with each other, from now on we'll leave the underwear out of it."

"Agreed."

Daphne raised an eyebrow. "Stori, have you just fired me as your stunt double? You do realize that you just agreed that anytime you have anything to do with Harry, you'll do it without underthings?"

"What? No, I didn't! Ah, I'm distracted. It doesn't count."

"Coach Hermione, Daph, does everyone agree I beat Stori in this round? Daph, would you care to come congratulate me? Congratulate me twice, because I pranked Snape at the same time."

"No! Shopping! I'm cold and uncomfortable and it's your fault. You have to fix it."

"If you're taking my little sister shopping, I need to go as a chaperone. Besides, you owe me a date."

"If you're taking the two of them, I could use a few things, too." Hermione had outgrown her brassieres. Harry had noticed and approved the growth, theorized that it had been caused by fondling during their occasional nights together, and offered to aid her in additional growth. Hermione had swatted his arm but hadn't declined the offer. With magic, you never knew.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Fine. Could you ask Luna if she wants to go? I know those idiots are still stealing her clothes even though I keep smacking them down."

And so it was that Hermione and three other teenage girls wearing skirts and blouses and somewhat old-fashioned travelling cloaks travelled to London with Harry. If no one objected to their going on a weekday evening, they weren't going to worry about it. And if only Harry's overpowered Notice Me Not prevented the nominally responsible adults from objecting, no one was going to worry about that, either. However, Harry provided a portkey to London, so perhaps their expedition wasn't as unsanctioned as Hermione thought.

"Oh, we've been to Harrods before, but we couldn't buy anything because Father didn't have any ordinary money." Astoria's cool demeanor was surely an act. Her eyes were flicking everywhere. Luna, by contrast, made no attempt to disguise her wonderment. What few sensible comments she made suggested that she'd never been in a large city before and had never seen such a variety and quantity of merchandise.

The pretty clerk in the lingerie department smiled at Harry when she sized up the situation. "I assume you've been coerced into paying? May I ask the budget?" And then they all swept away, leaving Harry to try to catch up on some sleep as he sat in a chair offered by a sympathetic male clerk.

Hermione had one important announcement. "Ah, Ladies? Before you disrobe to try on your selections, I should inform you that I'm sexually attracted to women. If you prefer, I'll use the other changing room."

"Oh, we knew, didn't we, Stori? You certainly dropped enough hints."

Luna looked closely at her, big, grey eyes intent. "That can't be true, Hermione, or not the entire truth. The days on which you are most cheerful at breakfast, you smell quite clearly of boy."

Hermione was mortified! It only became worse when her stammered denials and explanations were met with unanimous laughter.

None of the other girls seemed uneasy with Hermione's presence, so she shrugged her shoulders and shrugged out of her blouse. The eye candy would be nice, if nothing else.

"Good Heavens, Daphne! I knew you had a good figure, but that is just sickening. How can any normal girl compete?"

Daphne looked up from her experimentation of how to put on the piece she was holding. "You compete well enough. Either you look better than you think you do or looks aren't everything. I know what I look like and believe me, Harry appreciates what you've been staring at, but he'll spend the night with you anytime you ask."

Hermione, struck by the truth Daphne had brought to her attention, didn't notice the slow smile growing on her face, nor the slightly annoyed expressions on Daphne's and Astoria's faces.

"Once we get back to school, we need to discuss our arrangement again. Stori has been keeping up her end of the deal and I'm not willing to be shortchanged on my end. I won't go back to the likes of Draco Malfoy now that I've had better."

Luna frowned. "I don't blame you. Though I must say, Draco Malfoy has been much more agreeable, this past month."

Trust Luna to disrupt an impending argument. Once again Hermione wondered if the girl was crazy, or crazy like a fox.

"Yes. We'll all discuss it later. For now, let's pick out the nicest looking pieces of what Harry is kind enough to buy us."

The girls all hugged Harry as he paid for their purchases. They hadn't gone _much_ over the limit he'd told the clerk and hadn't taken _much_ longer than expected.

Luna took her turn in the hug queue. Hermione noticed that she seemed awkward, unused to the gesture.

"Does this mean we're all engaged, Harry? I never expected a man other than my father or husband to buy me underclothes, and my father never bought me anything half so lacy."

And maybe there was a reason not many boys were interested in getting close to her.

Replacement clothing securely in hand (plus one set in use), Astoria was much more relaxed. On the way from Hogwarts to Harrods she had been a woman on a mission, dragging Harry with one hand and holding her skirt tight to her legs with the other. Now she was her usual pleasant self, claiming one of Harry's arms and chatting as the group took in the sights before portkeying back.

"Oh, it was no problem to get the rumors started. We've got Lavender Brown in our tower and our classes, yah? That one evening patrol that she did, before McGonagall took back the prefect's pin –"

"You know why that was, don't you?" Hermione interjected. "She was caught the next night entertaining a group of male students. I just happened to be in the common room when McGonagall dragged Lavender in and they just happened to think the room was empty so McGonagall lit into her."

"Just happened?"

"Of course. Surely you don't think I would have used disillusionment and listening charms to eavesdrop? Now if I may continue without interruption, McGonagall told her that the staff normally would turn a blind eye toward 'private activities' between established couples, Miss Brown, but there is no way to paper over finding one witch with four wizards and none of you with a stitch of clothing."

"Interesting. She never was caught so, ah, flagrantly before. And then Parvati kept the badge for, what, three days? I wonder if you really did curse the position."

"It wouldn't surprise me." Astoria was two years behind Hermione in devouring advanced magical books, but she'd grown up in the culture. She knew things that Hermione and Harry had never picked up. "Magic is directed by intent and put into effect by power. Hermione has a huge amount of power and _intent_ was practically flowing off her that night. If she cursed the position, it might well be difficult to dispel by conventional means."

"I'm so proud. Hermione's cursing the school just like You-Know-Who. _Ouch_!"

"That's not funny, Harry. The last thing I need is rumors making me worse than I am. The professors are already coming down on me, since Dumbledore took away my position."

"I don't think you have to worry. Lavender is nowhere near. Anyway, to get back to my story, I acted like I was making a floo call in the common room when she came back. A green coloring spell and a flame-freezing charm and _voila_! A fake floo. I stuck my head in and talked like I was asking Remus – that's Remus Lupin, the Defense professor three years ago – for advice on dealing with Snape when he was after one of my friends. Lavender thought I didn't notice her creeping closer and closer but of course I did.

"I had planned to push the rumor a few more times, like by asking McGonagall what to do about a professor who isn't keeping his distance from the students, but I didn't need to. Lavender took what she heard and ran with it and built it up bigger and better and faster than I'd ever planned."

"I'm impressed, Harry. That is similar to how I would have done it if I didn't simply pay others to spread the word."

"I know. I watched you when I could for a few days a while ago. It was when rumors were going around that I don't like girls and was just using Daph as a cover."

"I never spread that rumor. If nothing else, it would have affected Daphne's reputation."

"Yah, I found out right away that it wasn't you. It was Ron Weasley, in fact. I've been too busy to pay him back, but he's on my list."

Hermione didn't like the sound of that, any part of it. "Keep Harry from becoming a monster" moved up a slot on her mental to-do list.

Astoria didn't like what Harry said, either. "Just where were you watching me? It wasn't when I was alone, was it?"

"Don't worry. It was just in the Slytherin common room and a classroom or two. I was checking whether you were spreading the rumors and you couldn't do that when you were alone, could you? _Ouch_!"

"That's for secretly spying on a young woman," Hermione informed him firmly. "I haven't been coaching you in useful and unusual skills just so you can perv on pretty girls."

Back in the castle, after a last round of thank-you kisses, hugs, and gropes had been delivered as appropriate to the deliverer, Hermione pulled Luna and Harry aside after they'd escorted Daphne and Astoria to the Slytherin dorms – more accurately, after they'd delivered Astoria into the keeping of the evening's bodyguard.

"We have a few more minutes before curfew. Luna, if you don't have a huge backlog of homework, let Harry put some anti-theft charms on your new clothes. Harry, the books you loaned me are extremely useful when it comes to practical spells. I believe that a powerful wizard casting a few charms will deter the, ah, gremlins or whatever has been inconveniencing Luna."

"I'm almost certain that other girls in the Ravenclaw dorm are taking my clothes as a prank, Hermione. Why would you think imaginary creatures had been doing it?"

Hermione was at a loss for words, her jaw working silently until she saw Harry smirking at her. "Not. One. Word."

Theft-proofing Luna's new underthings proceeded with only one problem: "I think you over-powered that spell, Harry. The smell of ozone coming from my privates is unlikely to promote dorm room comity or lead to a successful seduction should I be so inclined.' — two questions: "With the charms in place, will the house elves be able to take my clothes to launder them? For that matter, will any hypothetical suitors be able to remove them from me?" — an observation: "You've handled my new frillies more than I have, Harry. I find this vicarious intimacy rather unsatisfying. Do let me know if you would like to eliminate the middleman, as it were." – and another question: "How will you handle the set I'm wearing? Do you want to handle them on my body or shall I remove them for you?"

Hermione wasn't quite sure what to make of Luna's almost-blatant come-ons. On the one hand, she did feel sorry for the persecuted blonde. On the other hand, she herself wanted more time with Harry, and Daphne was already taking many of his nights. On the one hand, Harry was his own person and entitled to make his own decisions. On the other hand, Harry was a teenage boy and, faced with another girl offering clothing-free recreation, would surely make the wrong decision. On the one hand, Harry already had Daphne but Daphne said he'd go to Hermione whenever she wanted… Hermione had nothing to fear.

"I think it's an excellent idea for you two to spend more time together. Harry, why don't you escort Luna. I'll see you tonight or tomorrow, as usual."

Hermione went to her bed not at all upset about it being lonely and cold. She couldn't even feel any guilt about manipulating Harry again because it wasn't really manipulation, just a bit of encouragement toward something they wanted to do already. The feeling of satisfaction of a good deed well done would keep her warm tonight.

And with a start, Hermione realized she'd forgotten something: she was a lesbian. She should be looking for girls to share her bed, not fantasizing about Harry. Statistically, there should be a handful of girls in the castle who shared her tastes. The problem was that there was no disapproval-free way of identifying girls who were interested in an unconventional relationship. She'd think about ways of spotting potential partners.

**...ooo000ooo...**

Hermione accompanied Harry to his unnameable house on Grimmauld Place the next afternoon. The impromptu shopping trip the night before had run too late for them stop by after returning Luna and the Greengrasses to Hogwarts. Harry could have popped by himself while the girls were in the changing room, but Daphne had asked him to stay so she could get his opinion on her selections. Alas, her schemes came to naught because the sales clerk, seeing that all of the students were under eighteen, wouldn't allow the girls out of the changing room unless fully dressed.

"Fidelius is still in place, I see." Harry had tried to invite Astoria to see his house but had been unable to say it. However, methods other than a Fidelius charm, such as a compulsion charm, could achieve the same effect. "Well, let's make sure I can get in. I should have done this by myself, so you wouldn't be wasting your time if I can't."

They made it through the front door harmlessly enough and Kreacher met them in the front hall.

"Filthy half blood master comes at last. Kreacher is dying of shame."

"Shut up, Kreacher. Speak politely or not at all. Now show me or tell me what I need to do to take charge of the house and the wards."

Taking charge of the house was both less and more complicated than expected. Both Hermione and Harry had heard many tales of placing blood on the central ward stone, writing names in a master registry, and even being judged for worthiness by the spirits of the House's founders.

None of that was the case. Harry had to bring down the house's wards and recast them all (or have someone else recast them) with himself as the owner.

"That's going to be quite a job, Harry. Might I suggest waiting until you have several days free?"

"Yah, I was thinking the same thing. Kreacher brought me a list of the wards on the house. I don't know if I can trust it, though. The Blacks were supposed to be really paranoid, so it makes sense that they left the nastiest stuff off the list just in case someone got hold of it. I'm going to have to check everything myself."

"That's a reasonable concern. On the other hand, the head of the family wouldn't want to kill his relatives in case he died before passing on the secrets. The list may be complete after all."

"Unless he told his heir about whatever wasn't on the list. So the list may not be complete."

"Unless the head didn't trust the heir because he was concerned about being murdered by him, a serious concern in many of the blacker families, no pun intended. I'm afraid you're going to have to check all of the wards yourself."

"Unless… Hey! How did you end up with my side of the argument?"

"It's because I'm always right. In a relationship, the woman is always right. You're involved with several women and you haven't learned that yet? I see I'll have to schedule a few more lessons to make certain you are fit to join normal society."

"Hmmph. To return to the subject, like you always say, I'll have to take down what's on the list first and then do my own checks. Except that I'll have to make sure that there aren't any booby-traps first. It'll be quite a job, like you said. Have I told you lately, thank you for having me learn ward detection and breaking and stuff?"

"Not lately concerning ward detection. However, we are standing mere feet away from a library just filled with deep, dark, secret tomes. I wonder if you can think of a way to thank me?"

Before Harry began to drop the house's wards he needed to get in some practice raising new wards. "I should practice on something worthless first. Number 12 isn't worth much but it's almost livable. I wouldn't want to ruin it, ruin it more, I mean, just because I didn't know what I was doing."

"You could make a start by warding a fallen tree, I would think. You could apply fire proofing and protection against magical attacks. I'll join you. I need the practice as well. We have a few hours unscheduled this Sunday afternoon. Or were you planning on spending time with one of your many ladies?"

"You're one of my many ladies, aren't you? So I can do both at once."

Finally! Finally Hermione found a magical technique which Harry did not learn with insulting rapidity and ease. Warding required a great deal of theory as well as detailed knowledge of the particular wards used. Manual precision in carving or drawing runes was essential. Warding was not amenable to Harry's usual intent-and-power approach. He was fumbling more and achieving less than Hermione had when she carved her first warming rune.

Hermione called herself a spiteful bitch and redoubled her efforts to teach Harry what she knew.

"No, Harry, you can't simply trace your rune and then carve it. You have to hold the image of the rune in your mind's eye and then carve or draw until the real one looks like the mental image. Ideally you hold the entire rune pattern in your mind at once, but few warders can do that."

After hours' practice, Harry was able, fumblingly, to carve a three-rune fireproofing ward which somewhat worked.

During those same few hours, Hermione was able to both coach Harry and carve her own wards on the log. She was surprised to learn that she was able to hold a seven-rune ward in her mind. She hadn't been able to do that the previous year, the last time she had tried. Her fireproofing ward worked so well that even Harry's full power, unleashed to vent the afternoon's frustration, couldn't set the log afire.

"Miss Granger, would you be interested in a warding job? I don't know how much it pays. Going rate, whatever that is."

Harry's plans to take full control of his house suffered another obstacle.

"I had an hour free this morning, so I went to my house to take a look at the wards. There's only so much you can see from inside the wards, so I went out to the street to look at them from the outside. The problem was, in order to see the house at all I had to concentrate on the secret, but if I was concentrating on the secret I couldn't concentrate on looking at the wards. There must be a way to do it. Voldemort was able to break into my parents' house after he was told the secret and they must've had some wards up, right?

"But I could do something Voldemort couldn't do. I asked Dumbledore to take the Fidelius off the house because I'd inherited it and wanted to start fixing it up. He said he couldn't do it because he's much too busy and I don't need to worry about it for now because I'm in school and then will spend the summer with the Dursleys and so I have a couple of years before I even need to think about it. He took three times as many words to say it, of course. And then he asked, would I consider letting the Order resume meeting at my house because they haven't had a good place for almost a year."

"The gall of the man is unbelievable. Did you laugh in his face or did you simply tell him no?"

"Neither. I told him I would think about it. What I didn't tell him was that if I let him use it I would have Kreacher spy on them. And he would have to give me everything I need to bring down the Fidelius and any other charms and wards he put on the house, and return all of the Black property that anyone other than Sirius took from the house."

"I'm impressed, Harry. Very impressed. Shall I inform Astoria and Daphne that you have another victory deserving of congratulations?"

"Ah, actually Luna asked me out on a date. Sort of a date. We're going looking for a long-trunked cleft prober. I think that means she's going to seduce me. I hope that's what it means. She's gotten a lot better with the crazy talk and the imaginary creatures, ever since we all went to London. I hope she's not backsliding."

Hermione smiled at Harry's implied priorities. "You're a wonderful friend, Harry. Go have fun. I hope you're right. She can use a friend. If you're wrong, however, and she is really looking for some imaginary long-trunked whatever, you can come see me tonight. Or if you prefer, I can tell Daphne she owes you one. Assuming she doesn't pounce on you for her own reasons."

"I hope I'm right, too. Not just to have sex with another girl but because I really hope she's really getting better. If I'm wrong, I'll come see you and cry on your shoulder and you can console me and I'll help you take your shirt off because it's all wet from the tears."

Hermione smacked his shoulder, not too hard. "Go on, you. Have fun on your date."

She didn't really need Harry tonight. He had brought her three new books to keep her busy. Rather, three old books from the Black, now Potter, library. _Powerful Blood Rituals_ might be dark magic and might not, but was guaranteed to be fascinating. _Improved Detail in Transfiguration and Conjuration_ was obvious. _On the Role of the Black Family in History_ promised to combine the worst of hagiography and vanity press but it sounded entertaining, at least, and it might contain kernels of truth.

Hermione had, of necessity, become much more practical and results driven, but at her core was still the quiet girl whose greatest delight was a new book. She planned to break into her secret stash of chocolate and curl up with her three new friends.

**...ooo000ooo...**

School continued. It was difficult for Hermione to tolerate. The useful school material had long since been mastered. Literally, in some cases. Hermione was fairly sure she qualified for masteries in Charms and Runes. She could easily pass NEWTs in the other wand subjects, Potions, and Arithmancy. Her other classes received little time or attention. They were simply a waste of time, time which Hermione could be using in more productive ways. The professors were knowledgeable, for the most part, but they were stretched too thin and didn't have the time or inclination to give individualized attention. And, in any event, Hermione was not much interested in talking to them. She had lost the last vestiges of respect for the adults in a boarding school who couldn't be bothered to watch out for children who were away from their parents.

Snape had been leading the pack in losing respect this year. All year had been a bastard in class. Of course, this year he was a bastard as the DADA professor rather than as the Potions professor. This was harming Harry's effectiveness and therefore Hermione's safety. Potions was an interesting class for the theoretically-minded, like Hermione, and a practical class for those too poor to buy ready-made potions, but it was essentially useless for an Auror or a private individual doing the Aurors' jobs. By contrast, Defense Against the Dark Arts was _very important_ to those fighting dark wizards.

The most infuriating aspect was that Snape clearly knew the material. Whether or not he could _teach_ it was unknown because he chose to be a petty bastard in class. Hermione was just about ready to set a challenge in Harry's training regimen. "Ambush and defeat a marked Death Eater" should keep him busy for as much as a few days

Down in the dueling pit, Harry had just pounded Zabini flat. Despite the unrealistic restrictions Snape put on Harry to make a "fair" match, Harry had an unbroken string of victories to his credit. That, of course, merely led the bitter child to take more points from Harry. "This is not a dance class, Potter. Five points for not standing and shielding the hex." "Are your feet stuck to the floor, Potter? Five points for not dodging." "Ten points for being unnecessarily aggressive, Potter."

"Is that it? Is that the best anyone can do? Pathetic! I can beat anyone in this room one-on-one!"

What was Harry doing? This wasn't like him. Despite Snape's constant claims, he wasn't a braggart.

"Pathetic, I tell you! Is there something in the school rules that says DADA professors have to be incompetent? We ought to demand a refund. The DADA teachers not only can't teach, they can't even do what they're supposed to teach us."

"Potter! Fifteen points for disrupting class and a detention for insulting a professor."

"Nope, sorry, Snape. You're no professor, not one I'll recognize. You're just as bad as Umbridge, just a fake pretending to be a professor."

"My knowledge of the dark arts dwarfs anything your tiny mind could ever hold, _Potter_. If we were to enter the dueling area you would have to be carried out in pieces."

"Challenge accepted! Let's see what you got, Death Eater. Remember, I'm not a ten-year-old girl you can Imperius and rape before you AK her. You'll have to use a spell that's not an Unforgivable."

Hermione now had an idea of what Harry was doing. She was rather annoyed that he hadn't cleared his plan with her first, but she had to admire the way he'd gotten Snape to fight him – for she had no illusion that this would be as polite and constrained as a "duel" – and seemingly had gotten Snape angry enough to be careless in the fight. Though of course that wasn't very difficult. For all the man's alleged self-control and mastery of occlumency, it all went out the window where Harry was concerned.

Predictably, Snape didn't wait for a Go signal before he started casting. Harry dodged while extending his left hand toward his opponent.

The effect was immediate. Snape dropped like a puppet with its strings cut as an almost-visible stream of magic flowed from his left arm to Harry. Harry was glowing within seconds.

Only now did Harry draw his wand. Hermione started at the realization. Harry had beaten Snape in two seconds without a wand! This was the first time she had seen with her own eyes the results of his training put to use.

After crushing Zabini, who thought to get a little revenge while his erstwhile opponent wasn't looking, Harry touched his finger to Snape's left arm. Even unconscious the man jerked and screamed.

"Hey, does anyone know if there's a bounty on Death Eaters? Hermione? Anyone? Oh, well, I guess I can just cut off his arm as a souvenir."

"You can't do that!" came from several voices.

"They're right, Harry." Hermione had little concern for Snape but needed to keep Harry out of trouble. "If you cut off Snape's arm then there'll be no proof that he was a Death Eater, and then you just know you'll be charged with maiming him with no justification."

"I think I could beat that rap just by calling in character witnesses who've taken his classes, but okay, fine, I'll do it your way."

Just to be sure, Hermione used a minor charm to whisper into his ear from across the room, "Witnesses, Harry. You have to be careful not to kill anyone when people can see it."

A few students came down to take Snape to the infirmary. "What did you do, Potter," Parkinson yelled, "attack a man when he was unconscious?" Their professor had no bones in his forearms and shins. Harry ignored the shouted questions as he joined the rest of the DADA class in drifting out.

Hermione latched onto Harry's arm and dragged him to a quiet section of corridor with no portraits. She wanted a word with him before he was, inevitably, forced to defend his actions before Dumbledore and McGonagall and, likely enough, the DMLE. "What was all that?" she demanded.

"When I took down Malfoy – Draco Malfoy, that is – I found that I could pull magic and energy through the dark mark. That's why Draco was crushed: I cast a banisher strong enough to go through his shield, but I pulled on his energy and pulled down his shield before it hit. I have to be pretty close to make it work. I bet Voldemort can do it from anywhere. And then I used Snape's mark to call a Death Eater meeting. I figured that would get Voldy just a little ticked off at the greasy bastard. I vanished Snape's bones so he couldn't go. It'll take a couple of days to re-grow them so he can answer Voldemort's summons. That should get him a lot ticked off at the greasy bastard, and maybe he'll torture him a bit. Or a lot. It's all good."

"You should have checked with me first, Harry. Aren't we working together? How can I form optimal strategies unless you tell me everything you can do?"

"I have to be able to fight on my own, Hermione. But you're right. I should have run this by you first. I just realized I made a big mistake by calling the Death Eater assembly in the classroom in Hogwarts. They can't apparate there and it's not likely Voldemort would have called them to there. I should have carried Snape out to the Forbidden Forest and then done the summoning. I could have picked off the other Death Eaters as they arrived. And now maybe I've lost my chance. Voldemort may change the mark or tell everyone to ignore it if he figures out that I can use it."

Hermione tuned out Harry's rambling as she thought. "He had to go. He was starting to really come down on Daph for being friendly with me. Stori, too. He kept giving them detentions for nothing, as humiliating as he could make them. The only good thing is, the other Slytherins were scared to do anything to her after a few of them got warnings." Hermione was familiar with those "warnings". She had to give Harry credit. His warnings had gained subtlety while losing most of the characteristic "felonious assault with deadly force" which had the professors pulling Harry in for interrogation at all hours. The suit of armor clumping up to Eddie Carmichael at breakfast a few days before was a case in point. True, a sausage floating to the armor's crotch, only to be nibbled by rats which appeared from crevices in the armor, wasn't exactly subtle but it wasn't nearly as blatant as the broken bones which awaited anyone who harassed Daphne back in November.

Most impressively, the armor had not been enchanted. Harry had controlled it with focused levitation, banishing, and summoning charms, all wandlessly while eating his own breakfast. His progress was amazing, far beyond anything she'd imagined. She'd have to work harder to make sure he didn't become a loose canon. He was becoming too dangerous to walk around without a plan. And, as today showed, Harry was still no good at planning.

**...ooo000ooo...**

"Harry, we need to find out more about this 'pulling power' power of yours. It could be crucial in defeating Voldemort."

"You're the boss, Boss Lady. What do you want to do?"

"I'd like you to capture a Death Eater. Several, if you can. But before that we need a secure place to hold them so we can do long-term experiments. I have no ideas there."

"I do, but will have to get outside the castle to ask about it."

Out of sight behind the green houses, Harry called, "Kreacher! Kreacher, I am going to need places to keep several dangerous prisoners. Does my house on Grimmauld Place have any cells in the basement?"

"Half-blood master should know there are no cells in Kreacher's dear mistress's home. Kitchen and laundry is in basement. No room for anything else."

"Do you know of any other property I own or control, which might have a dungeon?"

"Kreacher is a simple house elf. Ask the wizards what you own. Now if half-blood master is done wasting Kreacher's time with foolish questions?" The elf popped out without waiting for permission.

"Don't even think about it, Harry. He was abused longer than you've been alive. He needs sympathy more than you need to get vengeance on him."

Harry frowned. "He's still a wretched toe rag. I was thinking I might have inherited some property from the Black family which wasn't listed in the ministry's records. And I noticed that he didn't actually answer my question. I'll look into it later, directly order Kreacher if I have to. Right now I have another idea, one we can use right away. I'm tired of delay delay delay, never getting anything done because I always have to do something else first."

The Shrieking Shack was almost perfect as an illicit detention facility. It was remote and avoided by all normal, right-thinking wizards. (If "normal", "right-thinking", and "wizard" could be used together in a sentence.) Any screams which were overheard would simply add to the Shack's notoriety and cause wizards to stay even farther away. The only downside was that its true nature was known to several people, conspicuously Dumbledore. It was worth the risk. It didn't appear that anyone had been inside the building in months or years and Harry couldn't find any notification wards.

"Good, Harry. How readily can you capture Death Eaters? Can you pop right out and bring one back directly or is it a weekend project?"

"A weekend project, I think. I have an idea of how to track them through their Dark Marks but even if it works at all it will take me a while to do it."

And so it was that Hermione found herself doing Harry's homework after breakfast Saturday while he went off to kidnap Death Eaters. Oh, the sacrifices she made for the cause!

Harry wasn't seen from breakfast Saturday until lunch Sunday. He stopped briefly to tell Hermione, "It's okay. It was harder than I thought and I ran into a few problems but it worked out okay. We'll talk in a bit." He then walked over to the Slytherin table. "Mr Crabbe, I need to speak with you privately. Could you meet me after lunch?"

Later, on the way through the tunnel to the Shrieking Shack, Harry told Hermione that he was, in fact, able to detect the Dark Mark at a distance. However, he learned, only a group of Dark Marks would be picked up at a distance. He'd been cautious approaching the large house on the outskirts of the town but still found himself in a pitched fight against six Death Eaters. Pulling magic took all of his concentration and worked on only one enemy at a time so Harry found himself having to fight and kill most of his enemies. He took two prisoners but Crabbe Senior was not one of them.

"Crabbe, the son, took it pretty well. He said his dad died the way he would have wanted to, fighting. He said he doesn't hold it against me and he'll keep working for Astoria. I don't know. I'll talk to her about it, let her decide. It's her life. Literally, maybe."

Hermione didn't want to remember the "experiments" in the Shrieking Shack. Harry had repeatedly drawn on their magic, practicing until he could do it quickly while still being able to move. He meditated on the feel of their Dark Marks until he could detect the pair of them from a mile away. The entire time they were awake, the Death Eaters screamed at being turned into muggles. They begged and offered their wives and daughters, anything to avoid that fate worse than death.

The subjects were vile, repulsive. They would surely destroy her and everything she valued if given a chance. Their morals and history arguably made them subhuman. And she and Harry _needed_ the knowledge.

No doubt Dr Mengele told himself the same.

As evening wore on, Harry looked at Hermione seriously. "I'm done here. They're Death Eaters. You know what I'm going to do. Go back to the castle. You don't have to see this."

Hermione gratefully took his offer. It didn't lessen her guilt. It might let her sleep.

Harry was injured in training the next morning. More accurately, he received a new injury because a half-healed injury interfered with his dodging.

Hermione gasped and called a halt to the attacks by a simulated dozen enemies. "What happened? Did you get this last night?" Harry's entire left side, arm, and thigh showed signs of skin and flesh having been removed and partially re-grown. Potions could do only so much by themselves.

"Yah, last night. I apparated those two to England and then did a Death Eater call with one of their marks. I killed six more as they came, but then Voldemort came. He wasn't playing around like every time before. I already had a portkey in my hand and that's the only reason I got away."

"Are you going to be all right? Should I take you to Madame Pomphrey or even St. Mungo's?"

"I'll live. I wouldn't say No if you want to end training early today, though."

Harry must be really hurt to say anything other than "I'm fine." Hermione would keep an eye on him today. "We'll end training, but after you shower and change I have something even worse for you." Hermione grinned evilly at Harry's questioning look. "I did your homework for you Saturday while you were out looking. If you work quickly enough, you'll be able to copy each paper in your own handwriting before the class in which it is due."

Something occurred to Hermione later that day. "Harry, did you tell me that you killed twelve Death Eaters yesterday?"

"That's right. Four and two and then six."

"That's remarkable. I don't believe twelve Death Eaters were ever killed in a single day before. I'm not sure twelve were ever killed in a single month before. During the first war the ministry aurors used the same approach that they do now: stunners unless they are desperate."

Harry shrugged. "We already knew the aurors and the ministry and Dumbledore were useless. That's why you started training me back in September."

"True, but it's startling to see it set forth so starkly. Well done, Harry."

Hermione and Harry began working on healing charms in the morning. Hermione had touched on the topic briefly, months before, but it seemed to have fallen in the cracks in the press of everything else to learn.

They ran into a problem. Harry was unable to practice the charms.

Healing charms worked on injuries. That much was obvious in the name.

The problem was that only the most trivial injuries could be self-healed by the caster. Healing charms worked by encouraging the patient's own magic to do the healing. The healer was a guide, not a power source. A wizard couldn't heal himself because he'd be focusing and directing his magic to pull up his own magic. It simply didn't work.

Healer apprentices practiced by injuring and then healing each other.

The real problem was that Harry flatly, categorically, and unshakeably refused to hurt Hermione. He wouldn't let her hurt herself. At least Hermione was able to practice repairing a broken bone when he stuck his arm between her wand and her own arm.

"Honestly, Harry! You make things so difficult sometimes."

"Sorry." No, he wasn't. "I tried to stay back and let you cast that bone breaker but I couldn't. I told you, lots of times, that I'd keep you safe if I could. Maybe I cast a compulsion on myself."

"We can heal each other in the mornings when we get hurt in fight training, rather than have Winky do it. It won't be as effective as structured practice, but it's probably the best we can do."

"I'm glad you haven't suggested capturing Death Eaters and hurting and healing them. I don't think I could do it. Kill them, sure. They're enemies. But I don't think I could torture them even for a good cause. It was bad enough when those two thought I was torturing them."

"We're agreed. We don't stoop to their level. Dumbledore takes it too far, but there has to be some distinction between our enemies and us."

Hermione wondered if there was room for philosophy and ethics in their lessons. They'd been focusing on practical skills. Maybe it was time to start thinking about what made them different from their enemies, both the Death Eaters and Dumbledore.

**...ooo000ooo...**

Hermione pulled Harry into an unused classroom after breakfast late in February and put up all the privacy charms she could. When he saw what she was doing, Harry helped.

"I saw in the morning's _Prophet_ that Dolores Umbridge was killed two days ago. There were no witnesses and no evidence and no suspects. Is there anything you would care to share with me, Harry?"

"I killed her, if that's what you're asking. I wasn't keeping it from you, just didn't tell you yet. I was going to tell you yesterday after our morning training but I was so exhausted, remember? And then, with one thing and another, I didn't have a chance to talk all day yesterday."

"One thing and another" was Daphne and Luna. Daphne must have been in heat yesterday, to judge by the way she'd pounced on Harry as he left the Great Hall after lunch. Luna had commented on the technique's efficiency and then had done it herself after dinner. Hermione felt a frisson of resentment. She was getting up well before dawn every day, training Harry and developing her own skills and working to keep Harry and the entire wizarding world alive and sleeping alone every night, and other girls came swooping in and gaining the benefit of Harry's new emotional maturity and physical endurance. And Harry! Flash him some skin and he'd lose sight of what was important.

"Harry," Hermione said between her teeth, drawing on every bit of patience she could pull up, "I can see three things wrong with that statement. First, you shouldn't have murdered Umbridge. It's a very slippery slope from killing in self defense, to killing Death Eaters and other people who are a direct threat to you, to killing people out of simple revenge. Second, at the very least you should have told me what you were planning, so I could fit it into the campaign plan and decide on the targets that best fit the broader strategy. And finally, you are not spending your time in the most productive manner. I'm working so hard to guide your training. You have so much to learn and there's no time to waste. Do you really think an afternoon groping your pseudo-girlfriend is more important than training to fight or doing your homework?"

"Are you seriously complaining about me spending time with Daphne? After you threw us together?"

In a cooler moment, Hermione would have seen just how shaky were the grounds for her grievance. Here, this afternoon, worried about Harry turning into a casual murderer and worried about him being caught and worried about being in danger if Harry didn't train enough to vanquish Voldemort and frustrated about sleeping alone every night, was not a cooler moment. "That's exactly what I'm saying! We're all depending on you, Harry. If all you do is think with your crotch, then you'll never win and we'll all die and then neither of us will be able to sleep with Daphne. You don't realize that sometimes you have to sacrifice for everyone's good. That's why I have to guide you, because you don't make the right decisions by yourself."

Harry shot Hermione a look of loathing that cut through her self-righteous tantrum. "I'm no one's puppet, Miss Dumbledore." Then he shimmered and was gone before her own words struck her.

Hermione spent a bad night, logic and self-righteous indignation and concern for her friend's good opinion and horror at the path she was following and physical fear all roiling through her brain. She was right, she was sure of it! But Harry was right, too. She wasn't Harry's mother or employer or even girlfriend. She had no right to demand that he report to her and follow her orders.

This kept up until it was time to get up for morning training. Hermione trudged up to the seventh floor, hoping that Harry would be there this morning. Hoping their friendship would overcome their disagreement.

Harry was there already, looking as if he, too, had spent a sleepless night. They rushed to each other with hugs and "You're right. I'm sorry." blending together.

"So we're good?"

"As friends, yes. As training partners, yes. For vanquishing Voldemort, yes. We have to find out if we can work together after that."

"Even if we can't, I'll always be your friend, Hermione."

"And I'll always be yours.

"Now what are you doing, just standing around? You think you're going to get stronger, just standing around with your finger in your nose? Move it, Potter! Burn your way through that concrete wall. Burn, I said, not blast. I'll set up for the next exercise."

After a practice which had them working very closely together and which left them both sweaty and drained – magically drained, that is – Harry cut into their shower time by bringing up the sore topic from the day before. "I need to tell you about Umbridge. She was demoted from Senior Undersecretary after Fudge was booted. Some genius put her in charge of relations with the families of Muggle-born wizards and witches."

"That's ridiculous! It would take a phenomenally stupid department head to put Umbridge there. Or a pureblood supremacist hoping to keep the muggle-born away."

"That's about what I figured, too. I heard a couple of firsties talking about it about a week ago, saying how Umbridge's letters were very insulting and how she had sent them by owl and they made their deliveries in the middle of the day, right in front of co-workers or whoever. I spent two afternoons in the ministry lobby, waiting for her to pass by or use the public floos, and lucked out. I put a locator charm on her as she was flooing somewhere, then late that night apparated to where she was. She didn't have any security at all on her house. That was a little surprising, considering how quote-quote-important she was before. Oh, and the ministry lobby doesn't have any security to speak of. Nothing to detect invisibility or notice-me-not and no alarms when I cast the locator. And the guard didn't even look up when I came down from the telephone booth and walked past him."

"That's good to know, in case we ever need it. Continue with your after-action report, Harry."

"So I got into Umbridge's house. Found her, surprised her, captured her, interrogated her. She was just as much of a bigot as she was last year, no surprise, and wanted to keep Muggle-born away. She didn't plan on murdering anyone but did think it would be better if all the Muggle-born and their families were dead. She had some plans to publish the addresses of all the Muggle relatives of witches and wizards. She hadn't done that yet, though. She didn't know anything useful, like any Death Eaters working in the ministry, none that we didn't already suspect, anyway.

"So at the end I wasn't sure what to do. I could kill her in cold blood if I needed to but didn't want to. It's like you said, slippery slope. While I was thinking, I realized that she had recognized me and of course would tell about it as soon as I let her go. I'd forgotten to put on any disguise; big screw-up there. I tried obliviating her, but it didn't work, naturally. I need practice but don't know how to get it unless I start practicing on people I don't care about. My obliviation didn't make her a vegetable or anything, it just didn't do anything. An Obliviate Potion would have been useful, but I'm glad it doesn't exist. We'd have to be totally paranoid about what we ate or drank."

"Even more than we are now. I agree, it would be easily abused. What did you do about Umbridge?"

"I killed her. I grabbed a pillow and smothered her. Murdered her in cold blood. Now that I've thought about what you said last night, I think you're really right about the slippery slope. I don't feel any guilt at all about it. Umbridge would have gladly watched you and your parents die, and me, too, and she tortured me last year and was a disgusting person. But that's all just justifying it. I killed her and don't feel guilty about it. I don't know what I should do. I don't want to become a monster like Voldemort. If I let you, or anyone, make the decision about who I should kill, then I'm just a weapon. I don't know what to do."

"I don't, either. But I'll stay beside you to the end, no matter what. I love you and won't let you fall."

That evening, Hermione gave Harry the best advice she could for him to avoid the Scylla and Charybdis of being a puppet and being an amoral, loose cannon.

"Make your own guidelines for when you're willing to kill or anything else. Think through how much you value the lives of people who are dangerous and people who are completely innocent and people who are simply foolish. Think of exceptions to the main rules ahead of time so you don't have to decide under pressure. Then live by them. If someone doesn't meet the criteria for dying, don't kill him. Keep your guidelines secret so that no one can manipulate you through them.

"My only other suggestion is confession, the way Catholics do it. It doesn't have to be a priest, simply someone you trust to be discreet and who has good judgment and who has no power over you. I can't think of anyone to suggest. My father, perhaps, except that he's of course too close to me and I'm part of the problem. This is why I first suggested writing your own guidelines. You've never had many people in your life you could rely on, don't have many now, and really can rely only on yourself to work on your behalf."

"Myself and you, Hermione. I've always been able to rely on you. I'll make the rules for myself like you said but I'll have to show it to someone for a second opinion. I don't trust my own judgment where you're involved."

"What? Whatever do you mean?"

"Dumbledore. I haven't forgotten that he trapped you here in order to keep me here. You told me not to kill him and maybe you're right because maybe Voldemort stays away from Hogwarts because of him, but I'm not taking orders anymore, not even from you. Your life is the most important thing to me. I guess mine is next and then Daph's and Stori's and Luna's. No one else is close. Dumbledore's life isn't even on the list. I'll torture him to death if he pulls something like those blood wards again. I don't trust my judgment, so I'll wait until I can find someone to talk to."

Hermione sniffled. "I love you, too, Harry. Don't do anything rash even if Dumbledore does something. I can wait until you can get it settled."

**...ooo000ooo...**

Sitting in the library with her usual cohort, Hermione flipped through a few books which did not come from the Hogwarts library. She had continued to go through the books from the Black library as time allowed, which included time spent sitting with her friends, ready to help on homework as needed. Few of them were of any direct use in classes. Some had good theory or background, which normally she would have devoured, but now she needed ways to vanquish enemies.

_Will and Power_ sounded like a wizarding version of Nietzsche but actually concerned magical theory. One section covered manifesting an aura and the uses to which a magical aura might be put. Hermione was about to flag it as interesting but useless. Harry needed to kill his enemies, not intimidate them. But then one passage struck her. _With practice, a sufficiently powerful Wizard may impose his Will upon his Fellowes. This effect is produced by mere Will and magical Might and not by explicated Spell. As a consequence, the effect is subtle and insidious, persuasive rather than commanding. The Wizard's Fellowes may be induced to act against their better judgment or their self interest in favor of the Wizard's._

Dumbledore had power. Dumbledore had had a century to learn and to practice arcane magics.

Dumbledore believed in unlimited second chances for unrepentant offenders. Dumbledore wanted to keep the illusion of peace in his school regardless of the cost to innocents.

The teachers at Hogwarts all exhibited a criminal level of negligence toward the children in their care.

Dumbledore was arguably insane.

The Hogwarts staff was little better.

It was possible that Dumbledore had selected and groomed the Hogwarts staff over the decades to surround himself with like-minded negligent fools. That was plausible, considering the level of foolishness on daily exhibition in the Wizard world.

It was just as plausible that Dumbledore was subtly influencing the professors, encouraging them to see things his way.

And if that meant coddling Snape and other bullies at the expense of Harry and Luna and other students … it was all for the Greater Good.

Hermione had to show this book to Harry and Astoria. With luck, Harry could emit a Responsibility field to counteract Dumbledore's Insanity field.

**...ooo000ooo...**

"I think that concludes the planning portion of our meeting." Hermione and the Greengrasses met semi-regularly to discuss the previous week's and the next week's training and nemesis schedules and to plan how they could best reach their shared goals. In theory Harry should have been included in the planning sessions and in theory Daphne wasn't needed for discussing Hermione's and Astoria's plans, but the planning portion of the meeting usually took about ten minutes and was followed by an hour of the two single girls grilling Daphne for every detail of the past week's victory/consolation sessions. Not that harsh interrogation techniques were needed. Whether because of a slightly malicious desire to rub in their faces just what she was getting or because of a wholly benevolent desire to share her happiness, Daphne needed just the slightest prompting — a raised eyebrow would do — to spill her guts.

"Before we go into this week's episode of The Amazing Snake Charmer, I need to talk to you, Stori. Hermione, you should hear this, too.

"Harry told me about your little trap on Tuesday, Stori. He didn't tell me everything, but told me some of it because he was annoyed and because of, ah, moral qualms. Do you want me to repeat what he told me or do you want to tell it from your perspective?"

"I'll tell. It's only fair. You've been telling your stories for months." Astoria's face was bright red. Surely she hadn't…?

"I trapped Harry in an old store room. And, ah, trapped myself in there as well."

"Trapped yourself? That was rather careless. You normally don't make mistakes like that."

"Ah, no. I meant to trap us together."

Hermione saw where this was going. "You did prepare ahead of time, correct? You saw Madame Pomphrey for a contraceptive potion?"

"Ah, I didn't plan to go quite that far. But, ah, I did get a potion. It's better to be safe than sorry."

"So you trapped the two of you in a small room. I'm guessing there was just a single couch to sit on?"

"Yes. Let me tell the story my own way. The events are less important than the motivation.

"After the door closed, I told Harry, with my best evil cackle, that I'd trapped him and he was mine to do with as I wished, and that I wished for him to hug and kiss me. After a few very pleasant minutes I sat Harry down and told him that he had four young women interested in him and three of them were keeping him interested in them by sleeping with him. Yes, Hermione, I included you. Deny it all you wish, but you're interested in him.

"He asked if I wanted to sleep with him, too, and said he probably wouldn't because of my age and because of my sister. I told him No, because of my upbringing. Daphne rejected what our parents taught us but I haven't. However, I wanted to let him know I was interested and to get him interested in me."

"What does that mean? Non-contact nudity? I'd think that would be more frustrating than interesting. For both of you."

"No. Not non-contact and not nudity. I'd written the pass-phrase to unlock the door on my body. I told Harry that the only way out was to remove enough of my clothing that he could read it. And Harry kissed me again and hugged me and fondled my bottom and I thought my plan was a success.

"And then he swatted my bottom and told me never to try to force him to do anything. And then he made the entire door disappear and then he disappeared without another word. I've never felt so humiliated."

"As you should." Hermione was not pleased. "Perhaps it is time to retire you as Harry's nemesis."

"No!"

"I'm not sure it's accomplishing much, anymore, Harry and I have begun direct actions against You-Know-Who, and, frankly, I doubt your ability to remain impartial and to do what's needed for his training."

Astoria was not pleased. Nor was Daphne. "Is this because I've claimed him two of the past three nights?"

"No! While I'll readily admit that I have trouble sleeping alone, that has nothing to do with it. Honestly, we're even busier than in November and I'm not sure that fighting off Astoria's various plots is doing us, him, any good. And please note that I said nothing about you sleeping with him, Daphne. Or you, for that matter, Astoria."

Mollified, Daphne nodded. Astoria nodded thoughtfully. "Working against Harry has helped me in my attacks but not at all in defending myself. The only attacks against me were Snape's detentions, and I couldn't do anything about that because Dumbledore sanctified his actions, and Malfoy's physical attack. I failed that miserably and only Harry saved me."

"And you started crushing on him. Perfectly understandable, but deleterious to our work."

Astoria sighed. "Yes. I'll look for another partner, one who will counter-attack politically. I'll arrange this as quickly as I can, while I still have Vin and Greg to protect me in case the conflict escalates. Will you still help me with my advanced studies?"

"Yes, of course, as time allows."

"Speaking of 'as time allows', we've come back almost to where we started. How are we going to divide up private time with Harry? We could work him in shifts. We might work him to death, but he'd die happy."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "No, Daphne. Don't forget our main goal, Harry's and my main goal. All this was to prepare him to defeat You-Know-Who. We don't want to do anything to interfere with that goal. As for your, ah, energetic time with him, aside from your and Harry's own preferences in the matter, I've encouraged it so that he can let off pressure. He works very hard and should play very hard, so long as it doesn't take too much time or energy or attention away from the mission.

"As for my asking him to sleep with me, I confess that is more for my needs than his, though he's never hinted at a complaint. I've hinted before that some of the things I've had to do are preying on my conscience. Sleeping with Harry helps me to sleep."

The other two digested that for a moment. "Do you want to alternate nights with him? What about you, Stori? Do you want us to schedule you in for some nights?"

Astoria blushed again. "No. A few evenings would be nice."

Hermione sighed. "Don't forget Harry's preferences. Should we bring Luna in and work up a four-way schedule?"


	5. Chapter 5

Luna died in April.

Hermione felt terribly guilty. Luna had seemed so much better, more normal, that Hermione had stopped keeping such a careful eye on her. She'd been so busy lately that all she'd taken time to do in the past few weeks was talk friendly when they happened to pass in the corridors. Perhaps tease that the younger girl seemed very chipper the day after Hermione knew she'd had a date.

Hermione felt terribly guilty for another reason. Her last words to the girl had been unkind. Accusatory. Daphne had spoken to Hermione, not happy that Harry had stopped sleeping with her. Daphne had accused Hermione of keeping him to herself and not following the schedule the girls had agreed on, getting in her accusation before Hermione was able to lay the same charges against Daphne. When Hermione realized that Harry had been eating almost every meal with Luna and then had started to skip classes when she had a free period and then had started spending every night with her, she had very unjustly dumped her own stress and frustrations on the blonde. That was the last they'd spoken.

Looking back, Hermione recognized the warning signs. Someone had pulled Luna's new clothes out of her trunk but then left them all scattered on the floor rather than steal them. Madame Pomphrey had later been overheard complaining about the vicious prank someone had played; she'd had to treat electrical burns on an innocent Ravenclaw girl who'd done nothing but open a trunk.

After that, Luna's clothes had been left alone but her bed had been pranked with itching powder. Her homework disappeared if she took her eyes off it for even a moment. And she was disproportionately the target of mis-cast spells in Charms and dropped scoops of dragon dung in Herbology and drink spills at meals. None of the accidents were anything that could justify retribution, but they continued. And they were a warning sign.

Even Harry couldn't do anything about it. He'd shadowed Luna for a while, stopping a few "accidents" and swatting a few people as seemed appropriate, but Luna had stopped him. "You smite people, Harry. Schoolyard bullying doesn't merit smiting." She was right, Harry told Hermione after Luna's death, but letting them get away with it wasn't the answer, either. Hermione thought that Luna wasn't suited to be Harry's girlfriend if she wouldn't even stand up for herself. Hermione never even hinted at that thought to Harry.

After class the first Friday in April, Hermione had left the castle with Harry, planning to spend the long weekend at his soon-to-be-nameable house in London. He had invited Luna but she had a mountain of homework and a group project due. Most of it would be easy enough, especially as she would be redoing work that had already been done before being accidentally ruined, but it would take most of her time over the entire weekend. Hermione was just as glad. Luna would have been in the way.

Harry would drop every one of the wards on his house, then Hermione would recreate them. She had agreed, despite her current mild annoyance with him, because it would be good practice for her and because regardless of any temporary differences he was still her best friend. And, honestly, because he was paying her G500, apparently the going rate for a journeyman warder to do this amount of work. Converted to pounds sterling, that was quite good money for a weekend's work for a seventeen-year-old girl, especially for work that did not involve taking her clothes off. Although she had no intention of wasting the privacy. Her clothes _would_ be coming off.

They'd returned early Tuesday morning, just in time for training. Hermione was disgruntled and took it out on Harry in training. "I can't sleep with you. I'm with Luna now and I won't go behind her back." Hermione didn't blame him, exactly, but she was frustrated and tired. Even without sex, she'd like to have slept with him but he wouldn't even do that. "I don't trust myself, honestly." That made her feel a little better. Not much.

They'd seen Daphne and Astoria at breakfast, but not Luna. When Luna wasn't seen at lunch and when she couldn't be found on the Marauders Map, Harry had hit the panic button and gotten the professors involved. Give them credit: Dumbledore and Flitwick immediately began a search once they realized that Luna was missing. She'd not been seen since Friday, but they'd assumed she was with Harry, who often disappeared for the weekend.

Luna's body was found in a closet late Tuesday afternoon. It appeared she'd been locked in Friday evening with no food or water or wand.

Dumbledore the Disappointed Grandfather made the announcement at dinner Wednesday. "If we ever find who committed this unconscionable act you can be assured they will be punished most severely. Hogwarts is the safest place in the world and we cannot have foolish pranks endangering that reputation."

Harry was right. Dumbledore was insane or senile. He could not be trusted around children, let alone in charge of them. Draco Malfoy went down a flight of stairs and the aurors were called in to investigate an attempted murder. Luna was murdered and Dumbledore didn't bother to look for her killers.

Harry was not in the Gryffindor common room after dinner. He had been walking with Hermione until all of a sudden she noticed he wasn't. He was grieving and he had mentioned that he didn't have any homework due, so she thought he might have gone to the Room of Requirement to let off steam by blowing up practice dummies. However, when he hadn't come to the common room by curfew she became suspicious and checked the Marauder's Map, then took off running for Ravenclaw Tower.

She was just in time to see Flitwick come through the ruins of the main entrance like a meteor. Literally like a meteor: he was covered in flames, hurtling through the air, preceded by a white arc of energy and trailing debris. Raising her strongest shield for what little good it would do, Hermione cautiously peeked into the common room to see Harry stomping back to the students he had tied up and left dangling from the high ceiling.

"You will tell me who locked Luna in that closet. You are the prefects of the house of oblivious nerds. It is your responsibility to watch out what happens in your house. You let an innocent girl be killed. That is your responsibility."

"We don't know anything, Potter! Do you think we can see everything that everybody does?"

"I don't care. It was your responsibility to see. Whether or not you know anything, I am going to punish you. Your only choice in the matter is whether you get to watch me punish her murderers, too."

Hermione should stop this, she knew she should.

Hermione pulled on Harry's cloak and stepped into a corner to watch his back.

Dumbledore himself had taken away her Prefect's badge. It wasn't her job to watch out for everyone else.

As it happened, Harry didn't even need to start breaking bones. Wandlessly summoning their wands and having his Patronus eat them did the trick. The oppressive feeling of magical power crushing everyone in the room surely helped to make up any recalcitrant minds.

The fifth year female prefect and her other two roommates were the "pranksters". Hermione was sure they were going to die in front of her.

Dumbledore arrived just too late to hear the confession. For all his age and senility, he was powerful and knew how to command a room. Hermione prepared to stun him from behind if needed.

"Mr Potter! Put down your wand and release those students immediately!"

"No. This one murdered Luna Lovegood and these other five didn't do anything to stop it. I'm making a citizen's arrest on — You, what's your name? — on Slaytor here, and the other two murderers."

"You have no authority to make an arrest and we will have to address your punishment for your destruction of school property, attacks on students, and assault of a professor. No matter how good your intentions I cannot condone vigilantism."

"Not even when the people in charge are corrupt or useless? Does that mean you're stopping the Order of–"

Dumbledore's cannon blast interrupted him. "You know that is never to be spoken of. Go up and wait outside my office while I determine whether anyone in this room, besides you, has performed criminal acts."

"They're all criminals, a confessed murderer and five more who let the murderers get away with it. I'm not going anywhere without them."

"I am the headmaster of this school. I am in charge. I am responsible for all students' safety. I–"

"And a bang-up job you're doing of it! Luna died because you didn't notice she was missing. I know about the monitors in the headmaster's office. Did you just ignore them? Then you found her body more than a day ago, and these six say no one has talked to any Ravenclaws to find out what happened. No one from the ministry has come to the castle. What were you planning on doing, covering it up so her murderers could regret what they did and become better people?

"I thought it was just the Death Eaters you covered for, Snape and Malfoy. But it's anyone who is really bad, isn't it? You let the innocent die and you cover for the killers. You're the biggest problem in this school, Dumbledore."

"How dare you! I've been keeping the world safe since your grandparents were children. If not for me–"

"Luna would be alive! If it weren't for you and your damned second chances, this bitch wouldn't think she could torment Luna until she died of it. Now get out of my way. I'm taking Slayer and the other two to the ministry to be properly arrested. I'll take care of the rest later."

"You will do no such thing. I am the headmaster of this school and I will determine what punishment, if any, is due. That includes your punishment, Mr Potter."

"Very well. Tell me, O Wonderful Headmaster of the Premier School in Britain, what have you done about the death of a student under your care? What are you going to do about her killers? What are you going to do about the staff who allowed the bullying to continue even though it was reported?

"You were a great man, Dumbledore, but your day is done. You're part of the problem now, not part of the solution. You're dying, anyway. Step down and write your memoirs while –"

Dumbledore flicked his wand up as Harry spoke. The binding spell didn't flash half the distance before Harry had brought up a shield…

… and then disarmed the headmaster.

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, the Most Powerful Wizard in the World, had been defeated by a schoolboy.

Hermione saw wide eyes peering from the staircases up to the dorm rooms. She had no idea whether the tale of this confrontation would be a good thing or a bad thing for Harry. Or for Dumbledore and the safety of the students at Hogwarts. There was nothing she could do about it, so there was no point to worrying about it now.

Luckily, the spell exchange had calmed Harry's temper before Hermione had to figure out how to stun him or even cast a cheering charm. "You attacked me, Dumbledore. You weren't getting your way, so you attacked me. You're lucky I give second chances. I don't give thirds."

Dumbledore couldn't let things be. "Mistakes have been made by all parties. Can you honestly say your hands are clean in this, Mr Potter? If you had not made a habit of leaving the castle, we would have been more alert to Miss Lovegood's disappearance. Furthermore, recall your attacks on Miss Lovegood's classmates earlier in this year. What role did you play in escalating tensions? This new-found vengefulness and intolerance of yours is both unbecoming and counterproductive."

Dumbledore was insane. There could be no other explanation. He was standing there, wandless, provoking the wizard who had disarmed him. All while wearing a look of supreme disappointment at how Harry had turned out.

_Calm_, Hermione projected with all the desperation-fueled power she could bring up. _Calm_. If there was anything to that book on mood-altering auras, now was the time to use it. She should have practiced it before. _Calm_. Harry could not afford to kill Dumbledore. He could not fight the entire ministry. _Calm_. Hermione wouldn't let him kill all of the Ravenclaw witnesses, not that he'd be likely to think of it himself. _Calm_.

Harry unclenched his teeth, uncoiled his muscles, and took a deep breath.

"What I want is for the Luna's three killers to be tried for murder. All the other responsible people – supposedly responsible people – who should have known and should have stopped it will be investigated and tried as accessories. That includes you, Dumbledore. I hold you personally responsible. And Flitwick, too. He wouldn't listen to me months ago when I told him there was a problem. He could have stopped this, too, but he didn't."

"That is not the way we do things, Mr Potter." Dumbledore held up his hand when Harry opened his mouth to object. "You are stating the expected outcome regardless of the results of the investigation. I will see to the investigation of any misdeeds, and then assign suitable punishment. This does include your own misdeeds, Mr Potter. I would hope that the consequences of your own mistakes has taught you the virtue of compassion toward others who have made mistakes. Surely you have not become so hard that you would deny others the chance to repent."

"Their _mistake_ – their mistake and your mistake and Flitwick's mistake – killed an innocent girl. Why should they deserve compassion? And what made me this way? Look in the mirror, Dumbledore. It was all your doing. You put me with the Dursleys and you let me be attacked every year at school. You wanted a weapon? You got him."

Hermione felt a wrench at that declaration. Is that how Harry viewed Dumbledore's actions for the past five, fifteen years? Did Harry view her in the same light?

_Calm_, she projected again, seeing that Harry was getting angry again. _Calm_.

"Mistakes were made in your upbringing, Harry. Surely you can rise above your past."

"Expel the killers from Hogwarts. They will have until my eighteenth birthday to disappear. After that I might hunt them down. The other five prefects lose their badges. You immediately put someone else in charge of checking the student safety monitors. If you do not agree to this, then I will take whatever steps I think are necessary for my safety and my friends' safety. Whatever steps are necessary."

"I cannot agree to that, Harry. It would be condoning premeditated murder. The ministry will not stand for treating magical subjects in that fashion."

"It won't be a problem. For instance, if I take the magic away from everyone, students _and_ teachers, that I think is guilty, they won't be part of the magical world any more and the ministry won't care what happens to a bunch of muggles."

Hermione was startled. Had Harry learned to do that? How had he learned? He must be bluffing.

If Hermione was startled, the still-trussed Ravenclaws were shocked and Dumbledore was horrified.

"I'm sure that won't be necessary. Such unconscionable measures should not even be joked about."

And then Hermione had to look closely at Harry. Was it possible he _wasn't_ bluffing?

"Expel the killers. You will investigate to make sure you get everyone involved in locking Luna up to die. I won't hunt them. You turn the school safety monitors over to someone else to watch. Take away the prefect pins of all these prefects who didn't stop the bullying and didn't notice that Luna was missing. The other choice is that I make sure everyone knows what you're doing here. I'm sure the _Quibbler_ would give me an entire issue. If I asked around the school to find other bullied students, you just know their parents would line up to talk to me."

"That should not be necessary, Mr. Potter. Your suggestions are acceptable. The only remaining issue is your punishment for the destruction and injuries you have caused tonight."

_Calm_, projected Hermione.

Hermione openly met Harry as he walked from the Ravenclaw tower to the Gryffindor tower. She had stayed in the Ravenclaw common room, exerting an unseen calming influence during the negotiations. She was amazed to find that she was able to affect emotions through a magical aura and she could hardly believe she could do it to Dumbledore, of all people … but results speak for themselves. Harry and Dumbledore had been on a collision course, fury and sanctimony reacting like sulfur and acid.

She would love to explore this possible new power, to test its limits, but the ethical considerations made her head swim. Her parents were medical professionals. They would know how to conduct challenging human experiments, or at least point her in the right direction. Either way, it could wait. Hermione was in the middle of a war.

"It's late, Harry. Come to bed. We'll talk about it tomorrow."

The next morning came very early. Hermione would have skipped practice but Harry grabbed her ankle and dragged her out of bed. "No slacking. I'll meet you downstairs in five minutes."

While showering together – desipite Harry's rejection of her just days before, and to have more time to talk rather than to "save water" – Hermione got Harry to talk about the previous night.

"I tried to get in politely but I couldn't figure out the riddle. The door knocker asked me who were the human commanders in the goblin rebellion of 1406. What kind of riddle is that anyway? That was just testing to see who could stay awake in Binns's class."

"It was a trick question. The goblin rebellion of 1406 was between two goblin factions."

"Whatever. I couldn't figure it out so I knocked on the door. Maybe I knocked a little too hard, since I kind of broke the door."

"Yes, I noticed. And the stone wall around it. You're lucky that part of the wall was not needed to hold the tower up."

"I was lucky, all the prefects were in the common room having some little meeting. I tied them up and chased everyone else back to the dorms. Flitwick came running in before I could ask the prefects anything."

"I came just in time to see Flitwick come flying out. How did you beat him? He was a duelist, a champion duelist. As good as you've gotten you shouldn't have been able to beat him."

"He was a champion, what, forty years ago? He's been a schoolteacher since before my parents were born. Or maybe it's that he's a duelist but I'm a fighter. He came in and yelled for me to stop and then got into a pose like this. Maybe that's great when you're waiting for the referee to say Start, but all I did was banish him out the door as hard as I could.

"If that's when you came in, you must've heard what the prefects said, and Dumbledore's and my argument, and the, uh, plea-bargain? Where were you? I didn't see you, and I was keeping alert in case anyone tried to blind side me. Oh, you got my cloak back from Astoria, right?"

"That's right. You probably got the harshest punishment for the killers that Dumbledore would accept. Well done. Especially well done considering that you escaped any punishment beyond paying to replace their wands and helping to power the charms when they rebuild the door. _sniff_ I'm so proud. My little boy's all grown up and blackmailing the headmaster now."

"Ha ha. You're not as funny as you think you are. Eww. We sleep together. If I'm your little boy, eww. We're not purebloods, so we don't even have that excuse."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Let's talk about the amount of power you have. A banisher could possibly have sent Flitwick flying the way he did, but no reasonable amount of power behind it should have lit him on fire. You've been doing the power building exercises daily for almost seven months. That's well beyond the longest duration that was mentioned in the books. We're in uncharted waters now. I wish we had a way to objectively measure your power, as contrasted with your ability to use some spell to perform some task."

"After you clear out all the nepotism and injustice in the magical world you can look at becoming a scientist. A magical scientist. It shouldn't take you too long, right? Graduate at eighteen, clean up the world before you're nineteen – that'll give you a whole three months, plenty of time – then get a Muggle PhD by twenty-one and invent magical science by twenty-two. There you go, I've planned out your life for you."

"You're not as funny as you think you are, either. It may be a good idea, though. I'll think about it. But we're getting off-track again. Do you want to continue the power building exercises? Do you need to?"

"Maybe. I think so. Yes. I'm tired of hurting and being tired all the time but Voldemort is going to be really tough, we both know that. I need every edge I can get. If I can magically 'bulk up' so that I can levitate a house and drop it on him, that's what I'll do. I need you to stay tough, Coach. Don't be getting soft on me. Though I like your squeezably soft parts."

Hermione rolled her eyes at his waggling eyebrows. "I can see this conversation has gone past the point of no return. You can join me tonight if you want to. Please do. I'm not feeling amorous because I'm still grieving, but we can comfort each other."

Harry's mood dropped in an instant. "Me, too. I've been trying not to think about it but it's still there. I'll see you tonight, ten-ish."

Charms was cancelled that day. That was hardly surprising. Even magic couldn't heal overnight the injuries from being flung like a burning meteor into a stone wall.

A substitute Charms teacher came in on Friday. During the Sixth Year class, early in the day, he'd called Harry up to help demonstrate the power difference between verbalized and silent spells. He'd had Harry put up his strongest shield and fired a banisher. As expected, the spell splattered on the shield. The teacher then had Harry drop the shield and recast it silently.

He hadn't gotten the memo.

Harry's shield pulsed and reflected the much more powerful banisher back at the teacher. Charms classes were cancelled for the rest of the day. Flitwick was back in the classroom the next Monday, not much worse for the wear, and school continued as normal.

Harry limped in to training on the following Sunday morning. "Morning, Hermione. Let's do just power training, OK? There's no sense in doing combat training. I'd probably just get killed."

Hermione looked at him, concerned, but started the drills. They'd found that it was best to do the workout first and then talk about anything that needed talking about. If they did it the other way around the talking always ended up eating most of their allotted ninety minutes. Maybe this was for some reason other than because the workouts were so difficult and tiring and painful. Maybe.

Afterward, Harry gave his after-action report as usual. "I left yesterday after breakfast to go hunting." Hermione nodded. She understood his desire to get out of the castle. Academically it was a waste of time for them both. Socially, he had Hermione and the Greengrasses and a lot of pointing and whispering. The pointing and whispering had gotten worse after Harry had dropped Snape – "Dark Lord in training … attack an unconscious man … dark rituals to increase his power …" – and then much, much worse after Harry had invaded the Ravenclaw tower and defeated Flitwick and Dumbledore and forced three students to leave Hogwarts and five prefects to lose their positions.

Somebody better adjusted than Harry would have been badly affected, and not merely annoyed, by the almost universally negative opinion. Once again Hermione was faced with a dilemma. She wanted Harry to be happy and normal and well-adjusted, but that would interfere with his effectiveness in the war. The best she could think of was to leave him as he was for now and then to help him to become better adjusted after he won.

"I found some Death Eaters last night. And Voldemort, too."

Hermione gasped. She refrained from grasping him until she found out where he was hurt. "You're alive. That's the most important part. How bad was it?"

"Bad, but good, too. I killed a bunch of trainees or candidates or whatever they were. I think they were having a celebration for marking about six new Death Eaters."

"It would be called an initiation in a normal group. No doubt Voldemort calls it something else, something more impressive or frightening. Pardon me, Harry. Please continue."

"I'd been apparating around, looking for Dark Marks, when I felt a group of them not too far away. I flew in like I usually do and saw the group in the yard behind a house that looked like it had just been wrecked. Like I said, about six new and about four other Death Eaters. I also saw the women they had been celebrating with. There was nothing I could do for them. I was already disillusioned and so was my Firebolt, so I drifted close enough that I could take the energy of the Death Eaters.

"I think we've proven that Voldemort is using their power. I could feel it going from them to him when I got close enough.

"So I pulled everyone's power as hard and fast as I could. Everyone dropped, except Voldemort. I think I got some of his power or something. It hurt real bad. Voldemort screamed but then he shot an AK at me. I had already put up the strongest shield I could. His AK just stopped in the shield and then faded away. He yelled something – I think it was just yelling or swearing, not magic – and then shot some sort of jumping fireball. It bounced off my shield and then jumped from person to person. He killed all of his own people, and the women, too.

"We shot a few more spells at each other. I was mostly dodging on my Firebolt because he was using spells that I couldn't shield against, like fire in the air all around me to use up the oxygen. He finally got me when it looked like and sounded like he was shooting another AK but instead transfigured my shirt and pants into wood and then had it jammed into my side and leg. I don't know how he did it but it must've taken a lot of concentration because I was able to hit him at the same time, the first time I really got him. If he had an ordinary body I would have exploded his elbow and probably killed him. I don't know what it did to his fake body but it must have hurt because I heard him screaming when I apparated out.

"So I got back up to the castle and Dobby and Winky healed me as well as they could and I got a few hours' sleep. The end."

"I'm impressed more than I can say, Harry. Let me state that now in case I never have the chance to say it later."

"Thanks. You get most of the credit, you know. And let's hold off on the mutual admiration society until we actually beat Voldemort, not just get in a few shots and then run away."

**...ooo000ooo...**

Three aurors came for Harry at breakfast Monday morning a week later. The week had gone normally, with training before dawn, pointless classes, pointing and whispering in the corridors, group homework in the evening, and Hermione sleeping with Harry every other night. Astoria had shyly asked Harry to spend some private time with her one evening, but that was the only break in the routine. That, and Daphne's visible grumpiness for the rest of that evening.

Harry had missed the morning training after being gone all Sunday and Sunday night. Hermione was so relieved to see him come in and start to eat with a very healthy appetite that she didn't even yell at him for worrying her. And she didn't even notice three aurors enter the Great Hall.

"Harry Potter, you're under arrest for murder. Give us your wand and hold out your hands."

"Murder? Me? Who am I supposed to have murdered?"

"Severus Snape. Give us your wand."

Startled, Hermione took her eyes from the potential conflict to glance up to the Head Table. Snape was not there, though that was not unusual for a Monday morning. Harry was convinced that Snape was busy, weekend nights, doing Death Eater activities while pretending to be spying. Hermione had no information from which to form an opinion.

Dumbledore and McGonagall were sitting up at the Head Table, watching but not moving and not acting. Hermione looked too late to see whether Dumbledore reacted to the news of his pet Death Eater's having allegedly eaten death. Nevertheless, their inactivity gave Hermione information from which to form an opinion.

"You're aurors, right? Dark wizard catchers?"

"Of course. Any fool can see that. Stop asking stupid questions and come with us."

"So if you're dark wizard catchers, why do two of you have Voldemort's Mark on your arms?"

That set off a small bombshell of twittering, on top of the usual gasps from hearing the dread name.

Two of the aurors, the two Harry had pointed at, drew their wands, curses on their lips.

Aurors didn't spend an hour every day practicing to fight multiple, horrifically powerful opponents.

Aurors didn't cross wands with Voldemort and live to tell the tale.

Aurors didn't have the cheat Harry used, dropping the two without needing to draw his wand.

The third auror, a beat behind, pointed his wand at Harry. He looked rather foolish, a big, bad dark wizard catcher threatening a schoolboy who was sitting at the breakfast table and holding half a piece of toast in one hand and a forkful of ham in the other. "How did you do that?" he demanded, lowering his wand a bit.

"I'm the Chosen One. Don't you read the newspapers? Now what's this about Snape being dead? If it's true, there's going to be a party tonight."

Dumbledore and McGonagall were finally coming over to get more information or to interfere or to contain the damage. It never occurred to Hermione that either was coming to support Harry as he faced down the last of the aurors.

"Yes, please give me information you have about my Potions professor. He has been out of the castle since yesterday morning and I have heard nothing about his whereabouts."

While everyone's attention was on Dumbledore and Harry and the auror, Hermione sliced away the unconscious aurors' sleeves. _Can you raise their Dark Marks?_ she asked Harry through her tried-and-true ventriloquism spell.

Whether by luck or by Harry playing with their magic, the two Marks appeared, black and malevolent, just as the two aurors woke up. Hermione gasped theatrically and pointed. "Look! They _are_ Death Eaters!"

By the time the commotion ended, Harry and all three aurors had been whisked away to Dumbledore's office. McGonagall was throwing point deductions and detentions around like confetti to restore order.

Hermione didn't have any private time to talk to Harry until it was time to wake up and go to training. She'd slipped into his bed around midnight, but the poor boy hadn't even stirred.

"I found him, Voldemort, again, a little before dawn yesterday morning. I was just getting ready to call it a night and come back to school to do training with you when I felt some Dark Marks. It was him and Bellatrix and Snape and a couple of others inside a small house out in farmland. There were some detection wards up, but I just went through them. I didn't realize Voldemort was there or I'd have been more careful, but it looks like it doesn't matter. He didn't notice me coming in.

"Voldemort was mad at Snape. Something about me. Snape was supposed to do something to or about me, or maybe find out something about me. I never heard what; it was just 'greatly disappointed' this and 'you pleaded for more time' that.

"After he was done with his speech, he told Bellatrix to have fun with Snape. As soon as she started torturing him and he, Voldemort, sat back to enjoy the show, I attacked. By the way, I know you still worry about me. I didn't even think of sitting back myself to enjoy watching Snape be tortured. I don't think I'd have enjoyed it, but I'll never know because I didn't think of it, just attacked as soon as I could.

"I pulled on everyone as hard as I could, including Voldemort, the same as I did last week. It hurt even more and both he and I dropped. We were able to stand up at about the same time and he shot an AK as soon as he was able to, of course, and I shielded it again."

"You mentioned that before. I want to discuss it in more depth later. Please continue."

"OK. We shot a few more spells each. He's still too fast for me. I can't even move my arm as fast as he casts spells, but I got a few in and he didn't hit me at all. I had a Bubblehead Charm up, which was good because he did the all-around-fire-burning-the-oxygen trick again. He tried something new, conjuring about a hundred rats. I banished them all away and a bunch of them landed on the Death Eaters and started chewing on them. And then I pulled one side of the house down on Voldemort and sent a bunch of the rats into the spaces between the beams to keep him busy while I made sure none of the Death Eaters were waking up. When I checked the pile a minute later, he was gone.

"I made sure all of the Death Eaters were dead. You could say I murdered them, since the ones who were still alive were all unconscious and not able to fight back. The funny thing is, I didn't murder Snape. He was already dead, either from Bellatrix or Voldemort's spells or maybe from the rats chewing his face off. I looted the bodies for anything useful, but they didn't have much besides their wands and a little gold and portkeys to I don't know where. Snape had a bunch of potions but I wouldn't dream of taking them because I couldn't trust what they were. I found one vault key, but one of the rats ran away with it, I guess because it was shiny, and I wasn't fast enough to stop it. Little bastard.

"Then I cut off Bellatrix's head and brought it with me. I cut off Snape's head, too, just to make sure he was dead, but didn't bring it because no one could recognize it. Then I burned everything and came back here for breakfast. The end."

"You beat Voldemort. You beat him and made him run from the fight. Oh my God, Harry, I'm so proud of you!"

"Uh, thanks. I got lucky. When I pulled on his power, it was just luck that I got back up at the same time he did and that I was able to fight. I could have lost the whole war right there. I was stupid."

"Yes, you're right. Oh, I'm sorry. That didn't come out right. I suggest that we think about different scenarios and your best tactics in each. I'll think about how to set up training drills which will force you to think on your feet under pressure.

"Oh, but Harry! I'm so excited! We, you, could be close to winning!"

"That's something new. Usually I only get you excited when your clothes are off."

"Oh, you. Ah, I'm willing if you are."

"Hey! None of that. Work first, then play. That's what you've been harping on since September."

After the morning workout, shorter but more intense than usual, and shower, longer but more intense than usual, they resumed their discussion of recent events. Hermione's brain had not stopped chewing on the facts while she was otherwise occupied.

"Your report leaves several points needing clarification or meriting discussion. The first is your ability to stop the killing curse. Have you stopped the curse only immediately after drawing on his power, or some other times as well?"

"I stopped it dead just the two times, right after pulling on his power. All the other times I dodged. Oh, except for that first time right after he'd been resurrected and our wands locked up. The first time I stopped it, I didn't expect that to happen. I'd already dodged and was as surprised as Voldemort when the shield stopped it."

"I would be very interested in studying how you stop the unstoppable curse, though I would understand any reluctance on your part to be the guinea pig."

"Ha ha. Yah, I'd want to think twice before signing up for that. What's next on your numbered list, O Great Interrogator, or can it wait until after breakfast?"

"Next, O Great Procrastinator, is the way you always attack a group by yourself. I want to start going with you. You would have to carry me with you in apparation, but once we find them I can carry my weight in a fight. And in particular, if you find Voldemort and can drop him and all the Death Eaters, I can stay on my feet and attack Voldemort when he's down."

"Maybe. I don't like the idea of risking you, but you're usually right. We can talk about it later, figure out the safest and best way to do it. What's next, Miss Keeping-Me-from-My-Breakfast?"

"I hesitate to ask, but why did you take Bellatrix's head? I can think of several reasons, but no good reasons why you would take hers but not the others'."

"For the Longbottoms. I had Dobby mail it to Longbottom Manor. And don't worry, I remembered that we can't have any witnesses or any evidence leading back to us. I didn't use my name anywhere in the package and I told Dobby to use a disguise. If they guess it was me, that's OK, so long as no one can prove it. I expect either Neville's gran will be here today or tomorrow or Neville will be called home for a day. Maybe if we hurry to breakfast we'll see it happen."

Giving in to Harry's subtle hints, Hermione allowed him to walk her to breakfast, which he ate with an enthusiasm just short of "starving dog". "They pulled me away from all three meals yesterday for questioning and by evening I was more tired than hungry – I didn't sleep the night before, remember, and not much the night before that – and went to bed without asking Dobby to get me something."

"About that questioning… The only theory that fits the evidence is that Voldemort told his Death Eaters in DMLE to arrest you for murder. I can't think of any other way that you would have been identified as a killer just hours after the event, and especially given that you burned the bodies. If that is the reason, it could mean that Voldemort is afraid of you, or at least cautious. He's using his minions to deal with you rather than going after you himself."

"Mmmmaybe. I wouldn't read too much into it, Hermione. He might just be slowing me down for a little while, while he recruits more Death Eaters. I've killed about, ah, almost three dozen, or made him do it himself, fighting me. He can't have had that many to begin with, can he? There aren't that many wizards. Wizards and witches, I mean. If he'd had a thousand Death Eaters he'd have just walked in and taken over, no need to hide and run a terrorist campaign. Even a few hundred would do it, I think, what with the support for his pureblood agenda from a lot of the families. And remember that only a dozen or so showed up to his rebirth two years ago. Most likely Voldemort had just a few dozen Death Eaters and I've _killed_ a few dozen Death Eaters."

"Intelligence is very sexy, Harry. Has anyone ever mentioned that?"

"I might have mentioned it to you, Cutie. But stay focused.

"There's one thing about this murder charge. Two things. First, nothing was ever settled with those aurors coming to arrest me. Sure, it must have been Voldemort who got that started, but the investigation _has_ been started. It wasn't dropped when I spotted those two Death Eater aurors, it was just derailed while more and more ministry people came and all yelled at each other in Dumbledore's office. Someday they'll stop pointing fingers at each other and will start looking into that again.

"And that's the second thing. Even though I _didn't_ murder Snape, I'd have a hard time proving it. I'm gone a lot of the weekends. Dumbledore and McGonagall know it even if they can't tell exactly when I go and where I go and when I come back. And everyone knows I'm powerful enough to beat Snape and Flitwick and Dumbledore. And I can't tell them what I'm doing and definitely can't risk Veritaserum. I've been killing a lot of people and that's still against the law."

"On your first point, perhaps no charges were ever properly entered. Those Death Eater aurors may have come unofficially but under pretense of proper authority to kidnap you under guise of arresting you. They might even have brought the non-Death Eater auror to kill and then claim that you did it while trying to escape."

"That's a good point. I guess I could owl the DMLE and ask if I've been formally charged. I hate to bring it up, in case I was and it's fallen through the cracks."

"You could ask Van Leuven to ask around quietly. On your second point, if you take me with you, you could have an alibi for your whereabouts on the weekend if you're ever questioned. I'd testify that we were spending time in your house, much more private and convenient than having to sneak around a school full of Nosey Parkers. And, ah." Hermione screwed up her courage. "If you wanted to make it even stronger, we could tell them that I'm your fiancée. I'm an adult in the magical world and I could demand that you, a minor, have me present when you are questioned."

"I don't know about that. I'm not rejecting you!" Harry yelled as Hermione's face collapsed. "I'm still sixteen. Can I even get engaged without the Dursleys allowing it? Sirius would have signed off on it, but he was a fugitive even before he was killed. I know the Dursleys would never do anything I want, even if it meant getting rid of me early.

"Besides that, you're a Muggleborn witch. Depending on who's talking to us, it might matter to them. If you say we're engaged, they might look at you like you're trying to steal the ancient, pureblood Potter name and it might make things worse."

Hermione felt rejected. Harry's reasons were good and logical and she worshipped at the altar of Reason, but it hurt. To keep the tears at bay, she asked, "Have you been keeping a list of who has been killed, Harry? It may come in useful, either after you've won the war or in helping you find other Death Eaters. Family members of known Death Eaters or guests at their houses might be more likely to be Death Eaters as well."

"No, I never thought of it. I don't even know who most of them are, or were. I'm not sure I could even find out who they were. When I looted the bodies this last time, I don't think any of them had anything saying who they were. No ID cards or anything. Not even monogrammed underwear." He smiled at the snort he startled out of his obviously sad friend. "I guess I could start cutting off their heads as trophies. I don't want to. Aside from the yuck factor, that would be a giant piece of evidence if anyone ever found my head collection."

"Yuck. You might take photographs. They would still be damaging evidence if found, but photographs would be easier to conceal and easier to destroy. And they wouldn't have the yuck factor, or not so much."

"That makes sense. I don't know if it will do any good, but if I can, I'll take pictures."

"Or I can take pictures if I'm with you. I already have a camera that works in a magical environment.

"Finally, perhaps you should have taken the portkeys the Death Eaters were carrying. It's a good bet the destinations were either a safe house or their own homes. Either way, you'd have a good chance of finding more Death Eaters if you took the portkey there."

"That sounds good, except that I don't know how to tell a portkey's destination without triggering it, and I really don't want to jump into a dangerous place without knowing what to expect. The other problem is that I don't know the trigger word to make them go. Even worse, if they were set on a timer and it pulled me with it when I didn't expect it."

"Those are good points. If we can think of a way to safely transport and store the portkeys, please grab them so we can study them from safety."

A masochistic part of Hermione made her ask, "Regarding alibis and fiancées, have you thought about making an arrangement with Daphne? She's seventeen, she obviously is compatible with you, and she's a pureblood."

Harry looked at her closely. "You're my best friend, Hermione. You always will be. I used to think about us being together, but you've hinted pretty strongly that you like girls, so I'm just enjoying the time we spend together, why-ever you want to be with a non-girl. Besides," he smiled, "I'd have trouble marrying you after you yelled that one time, 'Dammit, Potter, pay attention! If you don't stop thinking with your dick, I'll cut it off so you think about training instead of about your girlfriend.' I was so shocked I couldn't even yell, 'Language, Hermione!' "

Hermione smiled, which no doubt was his intention. "I don't know whether I should apologize for that. It was intended to be shocking. It focused your attention, which was what you needed that morning."

"I like Daphne. She's fun – you must know that; she told me that you and Stori always get stories out of her – and she's fun out of bed, too, just talking and being together. I don't know that that's enough for forever. We, she and I, never talk about the future and what she wants to do with her life or anything serious like that. If we had to get married, like if her contraceptives failed, I wouldn't hate it, but I don't think she'd be my first choice for a wife. And, ah, compared to you and Stori and, and Luna, she's, ah, not very smart. Not stupid, I don't mean to say that, but you three are, were, very, very smart. I really like that.

"Ah, don't tell her any of that, please. I think she's more serious about us than I am. I don't want to hurt her feelings if I'm right."

Hermione felt relieved. Hermione felt victorious. Hermione felt like a bitch. Daphne was her friend, too, and Hermione knew that she was more serious about her relationship with Harry than he realized. Schadenfreude at a friend's loss was not something Hermione condoned in anyone, least of all herself.

Over the next day or so, the gossip and staring changed again. The confrontation at Monday's breakfast was the first time that Harry had acknowledged the Chosen One label. Students had come up to him at the beginning of the school year to claim that they'd always supported him and knew he'd save them all. This had petered out rapidly in the face of his indifference. It would not be much of an overstatement to say he spoke to no one except Hermione throughout September and October.

The Harry gossip in the late autumn had focused on the mysterious accidents which befell Draco Malfoy and other bigots, along with a bit about his associating with Daphne.

Then Harry had openly killed Malfoy and hurt Luna's attackers. He'd defeated Flitwick and taken Dumbledore's wand. Dangerous Dark Lord Potter was the talk of the school.

Now, the thanks and heartfelt statements of support were back, stronger than before. "I always knew you were going to save us, Harry." "My parents wondered if you would come to meet them after you beat He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. They'd be interested in joining the families. My sister starts Hogwarts next year." And from the new Minister's senior undersecretary, "Mr Potter, you may rest assured that after you do your duty for the preservation of our society, you will receive your just desserts."

Harry ignored them all.

"Haven't you been listening at all to what others are saying?" Daphne, arguably the most normal of their group, couldn't understand how he could reject every friendly gesture.

"No. Why would I? There are only three people whose opinions matter to me. None of the rest of those sheep are worth listening to." Harry, his attention on Daphne, didn't notice the shadow pass over Hermione's eyes when he voiced his opinion of the masses.

"Did you know Susan Bones is mad at me because I'm the la-di-da Chosen One but didn't save her aunt last summer? She looked me up to yell at me the other day. Of course, being a Hufflepuff, she had to have about ten friends backing her up. She said that if I know I'm the Chosen One I should have gone after Voldemort – she didn't say 'Voldemort' of course – earlier and saved her aunt. I was annoyed that they were wasting my time and blocking me in a corner so I couldn't leave, but I didn't want to hurt anyone so I set the stone in the walls and floor vibrating. One of the books Hermione had me read mentioned subsonics in psychological warfare. It works. I let her fuss at me for a while and everyone was getting nervous and fidgety. Then I yelled Boo and they all ran away."

All three girls laughed and Daphne observed, "What do you expect? Hufflepuffs." Hermione wasn't sure the smear was entirely deserved – Cedric Diggory had been no coward – but acknowledged that the Hufflepuff stereotype had some basis.

"It doesn't matter that everyone is trying to apologize or be my friend today. Tomorrow they'll be back to whispering or running away when I come near."

And sure enough, within a few days the latest gossip was about Harry's unbelievable power – "Just like You-Know-Who's!" – and how he must have sacrificed the blood of innocents to gain it – "Just like You-Know-Who!" The problem with thinking the worst of people was that they so often live down to your expectations.

Hermione and Harry went on with their lives and their plans despite the fickle winds. Harry was right; these sheep weren't worth paying attention to. A dog, to change metaphors, that growls at you, wants you to take care of it, and wants to curl up beside you, all in endless, quick, and unpredictable cycles, was not a dog to keep.

When Hermione thought about it, she was worried about becoming a seventeen-year-old bitter cynic. War does that to you.

But most of the problems didn't directly arise from the war with Riddle. It was their society as a whole that was making war on them.

And that was a thought she shied away from.

**...ooo000ooo...**

Daphne arrived at the last weekly meeting of April slightly late and with her Ice Queen mask firmly in place. She probably wasn't furious or frightened, Hermione thought, but rather mildly upset and thinking about something.

Harry frowned and moved to sit next to Daphne and provide a little physical comfort. He'd been getting much better about receiving and giving casual touches and generally better about behaving like a well-adjusted, normal teenager. Hermione mentally thanked Daphne every time she saw Harry take another step away from the abused boy who grew up in a cupboard. The good she'd done for Hermione's best friend more than made up for her taking Harry every other night and flaunting her _very_ satisfying sex life.

Daphne waved Harry away before he could transfigure her chair into a love seat and join her. "Better not, Harry. I've just come from a meeting with my parents. They've heard rumors about 'what I've been getting up to at school'. They decided that I was in danger of becoming a loose woman and have arranged a marriage for me. My parents will allow me to continue at Hogwarts only so long as I do nothing to damage my fiancé's reputation – which means no appearance of impropriety. Which definitely means no alone time, Harry, and this is the last time I'll be seeing you except in public places. Even that I have to make sure is above reproach."

Hermione knew in the abstract that arranged marriages were not uncommon among pureblood families. She was surprised to find that teenage girls could be locked into unwanted marriages, though.

Astoria had morphed from shocked to angry while Hermione thought. "How could they! They've always promised to ask us before entering negotiations."

"Father did ask me about it over Solstice hols. It's the Morris family. Well thought of but not prominent enough to attract much attention. Philip is the only living wizard in the younger generation. He's almost thirty and hasn't found a bride yet. Mother said he's more interested in looks than anything else. Pardon the ego, but when he saw me he decided his search was over. Father asked what I thought of him. At the time I thought it was only Father trying to find me a husband, not that Philip had approached Father first.

"His family offered quite good terms for my hand. A good bride price, which Father will turn over to me as part of my dowry. So long as I don't cause any kind of scandal and bear heir-and-a-spare for both families and accompany Philip to fancy balls and such – Oh, what a burden! – I'll be able to continue my schooling and then get involved in something to keep me busy. The terms are quite liberal to me, considering."

"Four children, Daphne? _At least_ four? There goes your figure." Astoria was clearly upset. She wasn't normally catty with her sister.

"What can I say, Astoria? Daddy obviously doesn't think a snake-hips like you can do it."

"Ahem. Let's keep it civil, ladies. Congratulations on your engagement, Daphne. When is the wedding? I'm sure Astoria would like to congratulate you, too, as soon as I un-silence you both."

Harry had been looking increasingly unhappy during the conversation. Hermione's assumption that he was upset about losing the "benefits" of his friends with benefits relationship was proved wrong when he asked, "Daphne, you haven't said how you feel about this. Do you want to break the engagement? Do you need me to help with it?"

"No! No, Harry, don't do anything. I want this, I do. I'll be marrying into a good, stable family. Well off, if not exactly rich. The Morrises are not exactly purebloods, as they regularly bring in half-bloods, just the same as the Greengrasses. Philip himself is considered a half-blood but our children will be purebloods. No, Hermione, that doesn't matter to me, but it does matter to society and I don't want to handicap my children.

"I've gotten most of the wildness out of my system, so I think I can be happy with Philip. And I've learned so much in the past six months, things that I'm sure will make Philip very happy." She licked her lips in a way that made Hermione want to smack her for teasing Harry when she was dumping him. "Oh, I shouldn't have done that, Harry. Force of habit. I do want this. I'm a little put out with my parents for arranging it without first asking me my wishes or even confronting me directly about the rumors, but overall it's a good match for both Philip and myself."

"Okay. So long as you're happy, I'm happy."

Harry didn't look happy. He had made his choice in March and she had been taken away from him. Tonight, regardless of what he might have wanted, he'd just had another choice taken away from him. His face had gone flat and he was quiet as the meeting's nominal purpose was abandoned for congratulations and wedding plans and speculation about who at Hogwarts might be next to become engaged. All three girls were startled to see he'd left. He shouldn't have been able to do so without disturbing Hermione's enhanced locking and privacy wards. The last they were sure he'd been with them was when Daphne congratulated Hermione. "Now you don't have to fight with me over who gets to spend the night with Harry." Everyone who wasn't Daphne blushed when she added, "Though you may have to watch out for Stori here. She's quite the clever one and you can bet she's thinking about it. Unless the two of you agree to share. She's small and could fit in the bed with you, hmm?"

Hermione held Astoria back before she headed off to the dungeons with her bodyguard and Hermione went to track down Harry. "You said you want to be a virgin bride."

"I did. I do. Go to him. I turn sixteen in less than six months. I may change my mind then. Tonight, you go to him."

That night, as Harry slept in her arms, Hermione was kept awake by the thoughts Daphne had put in her head. She'd never thought of Astoria that way. Daphne, yes, of course. Everyone who liked girls had those thoughts about Daphne. If the other girl had shown the slightest interest, Hermione would have jumped in head first. But Daphne hadn't shown the slightest interest and so it never occurred to her that they both could spend the night with Harry sometimes. If the two girls had agreed, she couldn't imagine Harry objecting. Wasn't it a standard boy's fantasy to be with two girls together? Or at least to be with two girls, even if the girls weren't _together_?

Now that Daphne had gotten her thinking about sharing, Hermione couldn't get the thought out of her head. Over the past few months it had become clear to her that she wasn't as gay as she'd thought she was. She didn't think she'd be satisfied with just a husband, but as part of a trio… She could see that working, if she could find the right partners.

Harry would be a wonderful partner. Capable, intelligent, hard working, and a thoughtful and attentive boyfriend. His pile of gold was nice, too, but more important than that, he found Hermione attractive. Others had complimented her looks at the Yule Ball during the Triwizard Tournament, but only after she'd spent _three hours_ primping with expensive makeup and charms. Harry liked her every day.

For the other partner, Daphne would be wonderful, but only for casual fun. She was pure sex on wheels and some of her stories about what she and Harry got up to left Hermione envious of them both by turns. A night with Daphne would be worth failing tests in every class the next day. Longer term, though… Daphne was fun to spend time with but she was rather flighty and shallow. She didn't have any drive to reach the very peak to which her talents could take her. She didn't want to shake up society and fix its problems and leave the world a better place.

Hermione had a burning drive for justice.

Harry was disgusted with the incompetence and injustice and indifference of those in power. He was going to shake the world on its foundations if pointed the right way. He had already promised to help Hermione in any way he could.

Astoria wanted to be Minister for Magic and fix the world.

Astoria was as intelligent as Hermione. She was as driven. Less obsessive but just as energetic. Extremely competent in her areas of expertise. Cute as a button.

Hermione could easily picture spending the rest of her life with Harry and Astoria. She spent the entire night wondering whether she should broach the subject or whether she should leave well enough alone, at least until Harry had vanquished Voldemort and pulled Dumbledore's teeth.

Damn Daphne anyway!

**...ooo000ooo...**

Astoria wasn't at all interested in sharing.

**...ooo000ooo...**

Over the next six weeks Harry began hunting in earnest. He claimed that by around the time he'd taken the energy from half a dozen Death Eaters, he was able to sense a marked wizard if he was within a few miles. By the time he'd drained two dozen, the range was up to twenty or thirty miles. It meant a lot of apparating or flying, but it was possible to cover a large part of England or Scotland or Ireland in a night. He would go to classes (solely to maintain his cover as an innocent student), take a nap in the evening, disappear from the castle, and then return and join Hermione in her bed.

Even with all of his skills at getting around undetected, Hermione woke up every time he joined her. It was probably a survival skill, she speculated, for a young woman to wake when a man approached her in her sleep. It was useful for Harry's benefit, too. She checked the time every morning when he finally made it to bed and if it was too late they would skip training that day.

Hermione had had sex with Harry – made love, or at least made deep friendship between two people who thought the world of each other – enough times this year that she had come to quite enjoy it. Even if she had been gay at the end of the summer she definitely wasn't now. Girls were still nice but so was her time with her best friend. Nevertheless, she cut him off, with his grumbling acquiescence. He'd gone from no sex to a dozen times a week with Daphne to whatever he was doing with Luna to three or four times a week with Hermione to none. He had a huge amount of frustration that needed to be vented somehow and, look! Deserving targets.

Borrowing Daphne's idea, Hermione promised Harry some especially good sex after he killed all of the Death Eaters (except for Goyle Senior, if he could manage that) and "vanquished" Voldemort before the end of the school year.

The "especially good sex" would be a treat for Hermione as well. She deserved it for all her hard work in bringing Harry to the point that the end of the war was in sight.

She had approached the new female seventh-year Ravenclaw prefect a week before. It was in the library shortly before closing, of course. Where else would Hermione Granger and a Ravenclaw meet for a quiet conversation?

"Good evening, Miss Parsons. It's late and we're both busy, so I'll cut to the chase. I have a method of surveillance which tells me that you have broader tastes than most witches and wizards. A broader selection of special friends, shall we say." The Marauder's Map had not especially been designed to monitor who was hooking up with whom. After Hermione had added – with Harry's permission, of course – a few enhancements, it might as well have been.

"And? Are you going to try to blackmail me?"

"Not at all. I'm hardly in a position to criticize. I've come to you because I'm setting up a special night for a special friend and I need another woman to make it extra special. A woman with broad tastes. A woman who is discrete enough to have a night of fun and not shout it to _Teen Witch Weekly_. A woman who will not confuse a night of fun with a lifetime commitment."

"I'm listening. I have only until graduation to have fun – with a broad selection of special friends, as you put it – before I have to settle down and be respectable. Are you going to be a part of the night of fun? It's not a deal killer, but I have to tell you, you're not really my type."

"I know," Hermione smirked. "Your type, in both boys and girls, is short and slender with short hair. I told you, I have an excellent method of surveillance. To answer your question, yes, I had planned to be a participant."

The other girl pondered for a moment. "Potter, right? You supposedly were with Weasley earlier this year, but I haven't seen you so much as talk to him since practically the beginning of the year. You've spent a lot of time with the Greengrasses, but you mentioned 'broad tastes' several times so you're looking for a girl who likes both girls and boys. Potter's my type, all right, and I owe him for my prefect badge, so I'm up for a night of fun. Why should I go with you, though? What's to keep me from going straight to him with my short, slender special friend? He's a sixteen-year-old boy. Flash him some skin and he'll forget who he was with five minutes ago. Two girls flashing him? He'll forget he ever knew you."

"Are you so sure of yourself? You do know Daphne Greengrass? Aphrodite on Earth? Harry was with her for months. You'd have to flash some extraordinary skin to overwhelm his good judgment. But to answer your question, why you should go through me," and Hermione paralyzed Parsons just by pointing her finger.

It wasn't quite wandless magic. Hermione was able to cast only one spell wandlessly, the almost useless bluebell fire. However, she and Harry had accidentally discovered that if the tip of her wand was touching her hand she could cast some spells through her finger as if it were the wand. Not five minutes later they had rigged a wand holster on her right forearm and the odds of her surviving until her next birthday went up another tiny fraction.

Before releasing Parsons, Hermione gave the older girl the smile of a victorious lioness. "I don't have to be part of Harry's night. I would like to be, and you definitely are my type, but it's not a requirement. Ask me politely if you want me to step aside. Don't try to force it. Do you think Harry would have a powder puff for a best friend?"

"Very impressive. With skill like that, maybe you're my type after all, Granger."

Just before they were ejected as the library closed, they agreed to have Parsons bring her most special friend to talk to Hermione. She, too, was looking to end the year with a bang, and hooking Harry up with three girls had to be 50% better than hooking him up with two girls.

Hermione headed back to Gryffindor tower shaking her head. She should feel satisfied. Everything was set up, Harry would have a fun night, she would have a fun night, and she had even managed to impress Parsons.

So why did she feel like a pimp?

**...ooo000ooo...**

Back on the war front, working on winning the war rather than on motivating Harry to win the war, Astoria was working with Harry to identify probable Death Eaters and the locations of their family homes. The two spent enormous amounts of time together, even more than Hermione and Harry. Her schoolwork suffered, dropping from straight Os to straight As.

Old Hermione would have nagged her friend, colleague, and rival to focus on her schoolwork because it was the most important part of a student's life. New Hermione's work, along with Harry's, was also declining, to Es and even a few As. They all had higher priorities than homework designed with the average student in mind.

Astoria put it best one evening as she recounted the confrontational visit by her parents that afternoon. "McGonagall, Flitwick, and Vector had all held me after class to talk about my work and my grades. I had better ways to spend my time than being lectured or in detention because McGonagall thought that I had copied the worst part of Harry's attitude."

"Hah! As if you could copy me. There's only one of me, the genuine Harry Potter!"

"A fact that I'm sure the young witches of the world bitterly regret. You weren't openly defiant, were you, Astoria? I can't picture you actually acting like Harry." Hermione ignored Harry's harrumphed protests. He surely knew she was teasing. Mostly.

"I wasn't rude at all, nor defiant. I simply didn't agree with them that my schoolwork was a problem, that keeping my grades up was the most important thing in my life, nor that I should stop 'spending any time around Mr Potter because he's clearly having a most unfortunate influence on you, Miss Greengrass.' I did point out that collectively the professors had consumed almost two hours of my time in complaining that I wasn't putting enough time into homework. That made McGonagall very angry but it was not rude or defiant, merely observant.

"Then Slughorn and McGonagall called in my parents. They came in demanding to know why Hogwarts had allowed Harry Potter to declare war on the Greengrasses and ruin both of their daughters. That set the tone. To be fair to them, I'm sure they did not receive a full and unbiased account of my 'problems' in school, and I must admit that I have not kept them up to date as well as I ought. McGonagall made several statements regarding you being utterly out of control this year, that you have not declared war on my family because of course the professors would have stopped you, that you are exerting a very unfortunate influence on many formerly exemplary students, and that the professors are unable to stop you from fraternizing with me.

"My parents then threatened to pull me from school. McGonagall promised that Dumbledore is much more focused on school matters, now that Harry is preparing to lead the fight against You-Know-Who, and that Dumbledore will prevent him from unduly influencing any other students.

"I'm sure you noticed the contradictions and outright nonsense in what McGonagall told my parents. I'm rather disappointed that they apparently did not notice.

"I had to tread much more carefully with my parents because they have actual power over me. They could withdraw me from school or even force me into marriage with a man who could control my 'wildness'. They would do that only as a last resort, I believe, but my mother has a temper and often pushes my father to do what she wants.

"To summarize, I told my parents that you are, indeed, the Chosen One and that I have been helping you prepare to defeat You-Know-Who because none of the so-called responsible adults was lifting a finger and that I expect to benefit from having helped you. Ah, Harry, that was simply something I told my parents to mollify them and to appeal to their self-interest. Unfortunately, my parents, especially my father, are aware of the opposition of many of the old Houses and do not believe you can win. They want me to break off all contact with you.

"Harry, I need you to do something for me."

"Anything."

Despite the seriousness of the conversation, the girl who'd gone through almost four years in Slytherin House couldn't let that go by. "You should know by now not to make open-ended promises, Harry."

"Anything you need, I will do."

Her mischievous grin melted into the dopey smile that only Harry could bring out. Shaking her head sharply, Astoria got back on track. "I _need_ you to break into my parents' house, steal their wands, and bring them to me. I would also like to borrow Hedwig tonight but I can use a school owl if she is not available."

Harry's assent readily given, Astoria told him how to find the house. She didn't bother telling him about any of the wards or other defenses. It would probably take longer for her to tell him what she knew than for him to go through them.

Harry sat next to Hermione at breakfast the next morning. She flashed him a big smile. To be sure, she had been smiling all morning.

"I got back to the castle very late – it took longer to go through the wards without destroying them than I'd expected; I'll tell you about that later – and I didn't want to wake you, so I just took a nap down in the common room. You didn't come down for practice this morning."

Hermione blushed around her smile.

"So I went to the girls' dorms to wake you up. You weren't in your bed, so I was worried that something had happened to you."

Hermione started to stammer out an excuse.

"So I got the Map and checked. I was a little surprised to see you in the Ravenclaw tower. And a little worried. Were the former prefects getting some revenge on my friend?"

Hermione was nervous. Surely he wouldn't blurt it out in public…? But then she checked and found he'd put up a silencing charm.

"But then I remembered the new features you'd put on the Map. That was amazing work, getting the 'busy' couples to blink like that. And then I discovered the 'history' feature, and now I have four questions. Three questions; I don't have to ask if you had a good night. First, did you get _any_ sleep last night? And second, what did you do, expand the bed? I don't see how else all three of you could have fit in Parsons's bed.

"And third, did you use protection, Young Lady? Do I have to take you to the clinic to be tested?"

Before Hermione could come up with a suitable rejoinder, an adult couple came into the Great Hall and glanced at the Slytherin table before proceeding to the Head Table. They then escorted Astoria to the small room off the Great Hall. A little while later, Astoria asked Harry to join them.

"Mother and Father were quite incensed when they received my note at breakfast after having looked for their wands for an hour," Astoria reported to Hermione. "They were even more incensed when they realized that Snooty had not stopped your nor even alerted them that an intruder was entering."

"It's easy to stop elves. They all have one big weakness that makes it easy for a wizard to beat them. It's probably how wizards managed to enslave them all, centuries ago. I found it in one of the old Black books. And, no, I'm not going to tell anyone the secret, not even you, Hermione. Not until I've figured out a way to counter it. Dobby said he'll find some other elves to help me work on it, after. Sorry, Stori; I didn't mean to interrupt."

It was just like Harry, to tell half a story like that and leave her hanging. It was just like him, to hatch a wonderful plan like helping the elves but to refuse to tell her what it was.

"After I explained to my parents that I'd asked Harry to give a very small demonstration of his abilities, they relented a bit. They still do not believe that Harry can win, but are willing to give him, us, the benefit of the doubt.

As for my schoolwork, I pointed out that I am learning all of the material for not only this year but the next, but that my grades have dropped because I have better ways to spend my time than in writing essays on goblin wars or the development of the Cheering Charm. My father is requiring me to take OWLs this year instead of next. If the two of you can help me study, I would appreciate it. I am confident I will pass at least five courses, but must make the most of the limited time before the tests if I wish to do well."

Harry frowned. "You're already very busy, just like Hermione and me. I agree with you about not wasting time on pointless homework. Isn't panic studying for OWLs more wasted time? After I win and tell everyone that you were a big part of it, you shouldn't have to worry about your Hogwarts grades or even your father taking you out of school. You'll be able to write your own ticket."

"I agree, except for one potential problem: We don't know how long it will take you to defeat You-Know-Who. All will be well if you do it by June of this year. I would rather not take the gamble, if the only price is working a bit harder for a month."

Working around her increased school studies, Astoria came up with several ways to prevent more wizards from joining Voldemort. One that neither Hermione nor Harry had thought of was simple newspaper advertisements.

_Attention Death Eater candidates: Before you take You-Know-Who's Mark, look into the life expectancy of a Death Eater these days. They've been dying in droves, sometimes in their family mansions behind layers of wards. We think You-Know-Who has been killing them through the Dark Mark for whatever reason goes through his evil, insane mind. Don't let this happen to you!_

She had this translated into all the major European languages and then used Harry's money to run full-page advertisements for a solid month in every newspaper which would accept them.

It might have done some good. At any rate, Harry noticed it was more and more difficult to find anyone with a Dark Mark when he went out hunting.

Harry's patrols and raids had results other than the direct effect of reducing the number of Death Eaters on the British Isles and western Europe.

"Did you know that the students are talking about you in the Slytherin dorms?"

"That's not too surprising, I guess. What is it this month, my incredible good looks?"

"A reasonable guess, but no. There's a new You-Know-Who now, you know. Ah, that's more difficult to say than I would have thought. In any event, it's common knowledge that someone has been killing Death Eaters. Perhaps a third of the Slytherin students have lost a close relative. It's well over half of the students, if you include in-laws and second cousins. More Death Eaters have died in the past month than in all the years of You-Know-Who's first rise. This has their families very upset."

"My heart bleeds. The other side, and the Muggles, were doing all the dying for a long time. Let's see how they like it."

"I understand your perspective, Harry, even if I don't quite agree."

Hermione completely agreed with Harry and couldn't see how there would be much room for disagreement. As a despised mudblood, whose family still had essentially no rights under wizard law, her sympathy for bigoted purebloods exactly mirrored their sympathy for her. But she kept her mouth shut, having finally learned the lesson that not everyone's mind was open to being changed by her flawless command of facts and reason.

"But the point is, the families of Death Eaters are afraid. The fear is spreading to other pureblood families. The Slytherin students now speak in whispers of a different You-Know-Who who is after them. Where it affects you is that a large fraction of them think that you are the new You-Know-Who. 'You-Know-Who-Two', perhaps. They saw what you did to Snape in that duel and they know that you killed Draco Malfoy. They don't seem to recall that Snape had previously badly beaten you in a duel and that you were defending another pureblood from Malfoy. And thank you again for that, Harry."

Harry took her hand and smiled. "I'm glad I did. I'd have done it for any girl, but I'm glad I could rescue you."

"Ahem!" Hermione was suffering a saccharine overload from watching the two of them engrossed in each other's eyes. And she was frustrated because she was losing the undeclared competition. "Find a room, you two, or get it back on topic."

Later, away from Astoria, Hermione and Harry agreed to keeping on with the same approach. If the Death Eaters and their families and their fellow travelers were running scared, then Harry was on the right track.

**...ooo000ooo...**

"Astoria, I have a few concerns with our work. More precisely, I have concerns concerning Harry's training and life after he has won." Hermione no longer had any doubts that Harry was going to _vanquish_ Voldemort. Whether or not he could beat the self-professed Dark Lord and all of his supporters in a straight-up battle — and Hermione wouldn't bet against even that — Harry was going to win the war. It was what came after that was less clear.

"I understand your concerns, Hermione, but I don't think it will be a problem. Harry and I will be able to cut back on the time we work together after the victory and he'll be able to resume training. Perhaps he won't train at the intensity which was the norm earlier this year, but I don't see him ever stopping training completely, and I have considered the resumption of my role as nemesis, pranking and inconvencing him in minor ways. He'll have to keep his edge, if nothing else. What are you concerned about, that Harry will go back to playing games and wasting time if you aren't pushing him? I'm sure he'll always listen to you. For that matter, he should have enough money to hire you as a full-time trainer if you think it's important."

"What? No, that's not it at all. My concerns are about _you_, Astoria, not Harry. Or rather, I'm concerned about Harry in combination with you. That's why I asked you to meet me alone tonight." This was unusual. Normally either Harry or Daphne joined Astoria and Hermione for the planning sessions. Not both at the same time because Daphne was required to avoid even the appearance of closeness to a man not her fiancé, but one or the other helped with ideas and information while Hermione and Astoria handled most of the details.

"Why ever would you be concerned about me? Or Harry with me? Assuming he wants to be with me after we've won. Oh, I hope he does, but we've never talked about it. But sometimes he'll look at me and I just melt and I think he does, too, but what if I'm just imagining it?"

The normally cool and confident Astoria Greengrass was blushing and babbling like the teenage girl she was, and a slightly insecure one at that. Hermione took this as a good sign.

"Don't be foolish. You've got him wrapped around your finger, Astoria. No, it's a bit too early to say that. Let's say, Harry is smitten with you, too. Once you start showing him any physical affection, he'll be wrapped around your finger. You'd have to do something singularly stupid to lose him." Hermione Granger, master trainer and manipulator-in-training, did not realize that she was giving advice on a topic she had no experience in.

"Therein lies my concern. Have you thought about what we're doing here? Have you realized what we're making? I hadn't realized it until Harry destroyed Narcissa Malfoy in her own home, through the wards, and did it without getting caught and without Dumbledore even realizing he'd left the castle. And then he did the same with Dolores Umbridge. And a dozen other Death Eaters in their homes. Harry is well on his way to becoming an unstoppable assassin.

"Now think about that from where I'm sitting, Astoria. You want to become Minister for Magic. You want to reform our society. You want your name to go down in history as the most effective Minister ever. What will you do when old conservatives block your every move? What will you do if their reasons are as base as protecting their graft and their privileges? You'll have an unstoppable assassin at your beck and call. What will you do?

"Astoria, I do not want to be a part of creating the next Dark Lady. What will you do?"

**...ooo000ooo...**

"Harry, I've been thinking." The three had continued to meet regularly to plan the war. Astoria had not spoken to Hermione again about that one conversation but no awkwardness had come up between them.

"No! I can't take any more. Please make it stop."

"Stop being a drama queen, Harry. Neither of us believes it. What were you thinking, Astoria?"

"We are working under the assumption that You-Know-Who is drawing power to sustain himself from the Dark Marks."

"Yes, of course. Harry's ability to draw power is suggestive if not conclusive."

"We also know there is a connection of some sort between your scar, Harry, and You-Know-Who. Harry told me about the headaches and visions one night, Hermione. I can't imagine he hasn't told you."

"Yes, of course. That doesn't sound like very enticing pillow talk. Harry, I need speak with you about your seduction technique."

"Can you keep your mind on task for five minutes? Harry, you have a bad effect on women. It seems that when they sleep with you they can't concentrate on anything else."

"Yes, I'm amazing that way. But now you can't stay on topic, and you're not even sleeping with me."

"Not without a ring on my finger. To return to the topic, do you suppose that You-Know-Who can draw power from Harry through his scar?"

"That's an ugly thought. Harry, can you feel anything?"

"No. I thought of the same thing a while ago. I couldn't feel anything and couldn't think of any way to test it or anything I could do about it, so I forgot about it."

"I came across this runic seal in this book you lent me, Harry." _The Private, Family, and Secret Ward Schemes of Betelgeuse Black, Master Warder_. Hermione felt more than a flicker of jealousy when she saw the book. _She_ was supposed to be the beneficiary of Harry's library largess. She frowned, called herself a bitch, and returned her attention to the conversation.

"The only problem is that this spiritual essence blocking seal has seventeen runes and they all have to fit along your scar. I couldn't possibly carve them so small. Hermione, do you think you could do it?"

"Maybe. I'd have to practice. I'd have to get the finest-tipped metal quill we can find."

"There's another problem. I find our enemies through their Dark Marks. If we block off the connection from my scar, if that's how I'm doing it, then I won't be able to find them. Without that, we're dead in the water. We don't have any other good ways to fight this war. At best we'd be waging an insurgent campaign against a terrorist-slash-insurgent organization while hiding from the titular government. What?" Astoria was looking at Harry very oddly. "I've been doing a lot of reading on insurgencies and guerrilla warfare and counter-insurgencies. We, the nation, are in a classic terrorist campaign by a charismatic, amoral leader against a corrupt and incompetent government. The populace barely cares which side wins because they think one is as bad as the other."

"Power is attractive, Harry." Astoria's smile was neither her usual controlled version nor her occasional dopey version. "Intelligence is even more attractive."

"Ahem! Returning to the topic – and Astoria, I'd appreciate it if you would stop looking at Harry like a side of beefcake – I agree with your reasoning, Harry. Let me practice and we'll be ready to place the runic seal whenever we need to."

Hermione was unable to create runes small enough for this purpose. Daphne was. She had taken only three years of Ancient Runes, but that was enough to teach her the principles of carving runes. Much more importantly, she had been doing cross stitch and needlepoint for ten years and had fine muscle coordination better than anyone else's. Hermione shook her head in wonderment that Victorian-era women's busy-work actually served some purpose.

Now if only they had any idea whether Voldemort was drawing power from Harry or if the runic seal would do any good. Life was so messy sometimes, not letting you know if you were doing the right thing.

And with that thought in mind, Hermione dug into her book bag for her current philosophy reading. If there weren't a cosmic arbiter giving feedback on what was right and wrong then she would have to figure it out for herself.

**...ooo000ooo...**

By the first week in June, Harry had killed almost all of the Death Eaters he could find. He hadn't detected any Dark Marks in more than a week of apparating all over Britain and the continent. The only living Death Eater was Goyle Senior, who was in a drugged coma. The Draught of Living Death had been shockingly expensive but it let Harry keep his promise to the younger Goyle. Harry couldn't pull any energy from his Dark Mark and so the little gang of counter-revolutionaries assumed that Voldemort couldn't, either.

By the first week in June, Dumbledore had virtually disappeared. On his rare appearances in the school, he looked his age, the mere withered husk of an ancient man. A one-armed ancient man. Possibly Snape could have provided customized potions to keep Dumbledore healthy, but Snape had been dead for months.

By the first week in June, Harry was so horny he could probably destroy Voldemort simply by pointing his –. Hermione cut that mental image off abruptly. _Bad thought! Bad thought!_

By the first week in June, Harry was as ready as Hermione could make him. "I honestly can't think of anything else you can work on or improve that will help you against You-Know-Who. You've improved your fighting skills and power beyond anything reasonable. We've armed you enough to give you an edge."

"I still wish we knew what 'the power he knows not' is. If the prophecy is real-real and not just fake-real because Dumbledore and You-Know-Who believed it, then that has to be important. The only thing I can think of is that Hermione's cut me off until You-Know-Who is dead. I've never heard anything about him being interested in girls, but I can't believe that the power of the you-know-what is the power You-Know-Who knows not. And even if it is, it's pretty disturbing for Trelawney to mention it." Both girls made a moue. "Yah, sorry about putting the image in your heads."

"We need to deal with You-Know-Who as soon as possible. Harry is obviously going insane if his brain can come up with that thought."

"There's another reason, a real reason, to do this before school lets out," Astoria put in. "If Dumbledore's reputation has been keeping You-Know-Who away from the school, that won't last much longer. Even if Dumbledore doesn't die, he can't keep his decline secret much longer. I can easily see You-Know-Who attacking the school to either take hostages or kill the children of families who don't support him."

Hermione and Harry exchanged dark glances. "Or attack the Hogwarts Express or Platform 9 ¾. You're right. We need to get this done."

"The difficulty is in finding him. You still haven't had any success, have you, Harry?"

"No, of course not. Do you think I'd be sitting here if I'd gotten so much as a whiff?"

"Perhaps we could unseal the runes on your scar. We don't know that doing so will do any good, but then, we don't know for sure that the runes are doing any good."

"We do have one untapped resource. One person with a connection to You-Know-Who which you may be able to follow."

"Yah. Goyle. Astoria, I really don't want to wake him up if I don't have to. I promised Goyle – Greg Goyle, I mean, your bodyguard – that I'd keep his father alive if I could. I've already let down Crabbe. Goyle's done a great job, working for you, and I don't want to let him down, too."

Hermione frowned. "It may come to letting him down or forfeiting the war." Harry looked at her. "I'm not saying you should deliberately break your promise, Harry. I am saying we should consider using our only resource. We can take precautions, secure him physically and magically. We can even bring in his son to talk to him and perhaps persuade him to change sides, or at least help us. We can always put him back to sleep if he won't help and you can't follow the pull on his mark."

"Maybe. Do you remember how hard it was to get the Draught of Living Death in the first place? We need to get started on getting some right away if you think we'll need it. But the key point is that we're bumping up against my rules. I might break one if I have to, but I don't want to. They've kept me from the slippery slope this long."

"_Think_, Harry. We're this close to winning the war. We've pledged our lives, our fortunes, and our sacred honor, to borrow a phrase. This is a small thing, the risk – not the death, merely the risk – of one Death Eater to defeat his master. Isn't victory worth a compromise of your principles?"

Harry frowned at her, then disappeared. Hermione huffed, annoyed at him for running from a discussion.

"Well done, Hermione, very well done. You previously accused Harry of going dark and bullied him into writing a set of rules to prevent that from happening, and now you bully him to give them up when it's convenient for you. What's next on your agenda, binding his magic because he's so much more powerful than the norm?"

Hermione turned toward Astoria, annoyed that the girl would criticize her very logical efforts to win the war for all of them. Why couldn't anyone see – . And Hermione's indignation came crashing down. She _had_ been bullying Harry, pushing him in the direction she was sure he needed to go.

For the first time, Hermione thought that Astoria might make a better wife for Harry than she herself would. Hermione was pushy. She always had been and likely always would be. Harry didn't need pushing, not any longer, and would probably grow tired of it. Resentful of it. Astoria had a much gentler touch, guiding rather than pushing. Hermione would remain his best friend, a much safer role that would not endanger what they had together.

"Excuse me. I have to go apologize. I'll find you later and we can continue planning."

That evening, after all three had done the minimal amount of homework needed to deprive the teachers of an excuse to give them detention, they met again to figure out how to find Riddle.

"I've sent Dobby out to find a potions shop which will sell him another vial of Draught of Living Death. It might take another large portion of your money, Harry."

"That's okay. Like you said, 'lives, fortunes, honor'. If I have to spend everything I have to be free of all this rot, it'll be worth it. Besides, I figure I can write a book after and make good money from the royalties. Collect any medals and rewards the ministry offers. Lecture tour, consulting, plushies and posters, milk it for what it's worth."

Hermione stared at Harry, slack-jawed. Beside her, Astoria was just as astonished, though more daintily so.

"That's… so…"

"So surprising that I'm thinking ahead like that. Yah, I know. But the Potter fortune wasn't that big to start with, and fifteen years of vault fees and property taxes and no income ate a lot of it – I got hit with tax bills in January from both the magical ministry and the county where the house is, the ruins of the house, I mean – and we've used a lot of it this year. The Black fortune was either looted or given to Volde–, er, You-Know-Who, sorry, Stori, so I got a rotted-out house in London, a rental property on Diagon Alley, and more debt than gold, especially after I dropped the Fidelius and the London government discovered there was a house there which hadn't had any taxes paid in years. I'm going to have to work for a living and the only real skill I have is hunting Death Eaters. I don't know anything else. I don't even know how to use a magical oven. I thought for a little while about burglarizing the homes of Death Eaters, but I've killed them all, so there's no point punishing their families any more. It would break my rules."

Harry was almost broke? Hermione was horrified. She had spent his gold like water, thinking he had a mountain of it.

"You could always marry into wealth." Astoria was looking down at her hands. No, she was looking at the bracelet Harry had bought her.

"Be a gigolo? No, I don't think so. I'd probably have to marry some eighty-year-old woman who smoked cigars. No, I want to earn my way, for my own self-respect. It shouldn't matter to me because they're idiots and liars and their opinions don't matter, but my relatives always told me that I was a worthless parasite and that my parents were drunkards and dole bludgers."

Hermione's eyes met Astoria's and she shook her head minutely. _No, we don't kill them._ Astoria's tightened eyes replied, _Not yet._

"I just need to support myself to prove to myself that they were wrong. I figure that what I'm doing now is a big bit of earning my way," Harry continued, "so I should cash in on it the best I can."

"We're getting rather far afield. Harry, I'm glad you're planning ahead, but we have one major hurdle to overcome before you can start autographing your books."

"Right. I had another idea. What about asking the house elf network if they can tell us anything?"

"House elf network? What's that?"

"Don't all the house elves get together and pass gossip and help each other? That's what I heard. Stori, you've heard of it, right?"

Astoria's face was twisting strangely … until she burst out in a fit of giggles. "Harry, that's from _Super Elf_, a children's story. It was very popular with small children five or ten years ago, when I was a child. In real life, most elves are not given the freedom to find each other and gossip. Your relationship with Dobby is most unusual."

"That it is. That's because Dobby is the best elf in the world."

Dobby popped in and hugged Harry's leg. "And Mr Great Harry Potter Sir is the best master in the world!" he sobbed.

"Ahem! We're getting rather far afield again. Dobby, while you are here, do you know of any way we can enlist the elves to help find You-Know-Who?"

"I'm afraid not, Mr Harry's Grangy. Elves work and sleep and punish selves. No time for play."

"Thank you, Dobby. Focus, Hermione." Harry put a calming hand on her arm. He must have seen that she was about to explode at the injustice. "Volde– You-Know-Who today, bigotry tomorrow."

Dobby hugged Hermione's leg before popping out, presumably back to the quest for a powerful sleeping potion.

"If we can get back to work, I'm still not happy with waking up Goyle and using him as a Dark Lord Detector, but obviously I'm going along with the idea, letting my bonded elf go out looking for potions. We may not have a choice. The only other thing I thought of was challenging Volde– You-Know-Who –"

"Oh, just say it, Harry. The name won't kill me."

Harry smiled and took her hand. The move looked very natural, Hermione thought. She sighed at what might have been, then brought her thoughts back on track.

"I thought of challenging Voldemort to a duel. I don't like that. It would encourage him to cheat somehow, and I don't doubt that he's trickier than we are and can cheat better. It would also be just asking for trouble from the ministry or the Wizengamot."

"I agree. While it now appears to be common knowledge that you are the prophesied Chosen One, the laws regarding killing are still on the books, and I have no faith in the minister. It would not surprise me if he stabbed you in the back as soon as he didn't need you any more."

"So young and yet so cynical. Poor Stori, not the sweet, naive girl she _ouch_!"

"Astoria, do you have any ideas for guaranteeing that Harry won't be tried for killing Voldemort? More importantly, so he won't be tried for the deaths of the several dozen British Death Eaters he killed? I know that a few Wizengamot members have died recently," – Hermione squeezed Harry's other hand but didn't break the narrative – "but that other members are still seated but lost family members. I am not confident of the results of a trial if carried out according to the law."

"I'll ask my father. We should have thought of this earlier."

"You do that. Thanks, Stori. I'll send an owl to Mr Van Leuven, a fixer I've consulted with before. The only problem with him is, he's expensive and I don't know if I still have enough to buy a law."

Still looking for a way to find Voldemort, the three shot ideas back and forth for a while longer. As curfew approached, Hermione told Harry to go and find a way to keep himself busy for a few minutes. "And don't sneak back here and eavesdrop. No boys allowed!"

Harry gave both girls good-night hugs before winking and disappearing. "Drat him, anyway!" Hermione waved her wand around, knowing that the detection charms wouldn't reveal anything. "We'll just have to hope he's not still here.

"Astoria, your family has money. I don't want to spend your inheritance, but is it enough to buy a law or a pardon, not only for Harry but for us as well?"

"We should have more than enough liquid funds, unless there is well-funded opposition. The trick would be convincing my father to spend it. For another approach, I'm mindful of our conversation about me becoming a Dark Lady, but you have to admit that many of the more corrupt or dark-aligned Wizengamot members do not serve in the people's interest. An unstoppable assassin would make so many problems go away."

"That's exactly what I was worried about, Astoria! Do you see why I'm afraid of you with Harry to back you up?"

"I understand. But I hope that you understand that I had never even considered it until you brought it up." She smirked at Hermione's grimace of annoyance at herself. "Don't beat yourself up too badly. I'm sure it would have occurred to me at some point. You made a good point: it's better to think things through now, when I'm level-headed, than later, when I'm frustrated at the defeat of some cherished goal.

"You also don't need to worry about Harry, Hermione. He has done very well in sticking to his own rules. We, or I, might persuade him to assassinate a Wizengamot member, but I'm sure he'd do it only if it were the correct thing to do. I'm not at all worried about Harry becoming a loose cannon or a Dark Lord."

"No, that's not a concern. He has the power but not the desire. For now, he wants to be free, to have some fun, to learn things, and to have sex."

It was Astoria's turn to grimace. "I enjoyed listening to Daphne's stories. I do not need to be hearing about the sex life of my competitor!"

"I'm not your competition. You've won. Long-term, you'll be better for him than I will. Don't try to break apart our friendship and I'll gladly dance at your wedding."

The younger girl blinked. "Just like that? Not that I didn't want to win, but without competition, I won't do my best. Nor had I taken you for a quitter."

"Not 'just like that'. After you yelled at me earlier today, I had a revelation about myself, something I didn't like. I'll be Harry's friend forever, but I'll make a poor wife until I … until I grow up a bit." She tried to lighten the conversation a bit. "It might be different if you were a bit more open-minded…"

"No. That isn't going to happen. Harry – that is, whomever I agree to marry after he asks me – will be mine and mine alone."

"Relax. I was only teasing. Ah, well, it's getting late. I'm sure your bodyguard can get you back to your dorms. I'm heading up to ours. I'm going to spend some time with Harry before he is yours and yours alone."

**...ooo000ooo...**

Dobby managed to obtain another dose of Draught of Living Death. It was even more expensive than the earlier dose, consuming most of Harry's remaining gold.

And it was wasted money. As Harry accepted the vial late Saturday evening and prepared to take Hermione to the Shrieking Shack, where Goyle Senior was warehoused, he felt the presence of another Dark Mark. "It's close, Hermione. That way. Hogsmeade."

Harry grabbed Hermione in a one-armed hug, there was a brief spinning sensation, and they were in Hogsmeade, near the Hogwarts gates.

"What? How did–"

"Later. One Death Eater, coming this way. Draw your wand and disappear." Fitting action to words, Harry stepped to the side and faded.

A solitary figure made its way toward the gate. It was a shortish, dark-haired man, somewhat resembling Harry. She didn't get any farther than that before there was a flash from inches behind the alleged Death Eater, then Harry called her over.

A quick squeeze of apparition placed them inside the Shrieking Shack. "If he screams, no one will think anything of it."

Harry's body language stated that he was very much in command. Hermione bit down on her questions. They could wait, she didn't want to distract Harry when he was in the groove, and she especially didn't want him to bite her head off for distracting him while he was in the groove.

The captured Death Eater was a seventh-year student in Ravenclaw. Hermione shook her head. She had no idea how a member of the "smart" house could be so stupid as to take Voldemort's Mark when everyone knew that Death Eaters were dying in droves. "That's Marcus something. Bigby, maybe. I've never heard that he was a blood purist or anything similar."

"Okay. I'll try not to kill him. We'll find out why he took the Mark later."

"How can I help, Harry?"

"Start by getting ready to fight Voldemort. Is everything you need here? Dobby! Please bring us some snacks and water, stuff we can carry with us."

Hermione changed out of school robes and clothes and into a military combat uniform with lots of pockets, covered by a vest with more pockets and a small backpack holding more supplies. While she would be helping Harry fight as best she could, her primary role was pack mule, carrying portkeys and healing potions and anything else they could think of. Including box magazines for the shotgun she carried.

Harry had been busy with Busby, pressing his fingers and wand against his Dark Mark and frowning. "I can't get a read on Voldemort's direction. All I can think of is to do a summoning with the Mark and hope Voldemort comes to see why Barabbas was calling him. This is as good a time as any. Are you ready?"

"Almost." Hermione gave Harry a hug and a kiss. "I love you, Harry. Make sure you come through this."

"I love you, too, but…"

"I know. Astoria. She'll make you happy. You'll make her happy. You and I will be friends forever. And just keep one thing in mind before you have your Happily Ever After with Miss Too Adorable for Words: I cut you off only until Voldemort was defeated. I've got something extra special lined up for you for a victory party. I'm looking forward to it at least as much as you are. Make sure to win tonight."

"We'd better stop. If this were movie dialog, we'd know that one of us was going to die in the next few minutes." Harry smirked at her hmmph. "That's better. Stand next to me by the wall when I do the summoning. I don't know if Voldemort will come or how long he'll take or just where he'll appear, but I don't want us to be in each other's way when we attack. Wait! Put on my cloak first. Try not to shoot through it, but if you have to, you have to."

The plan, which they'd come up with just the day before, was for Harry to see if he could pull on Voldemort's power and render him helpless. Failing that, he'd smash at the monster's shields with his full magical force. Hermione would shoot steadily, to weaken the shield and to hurt him physically. It was a simple, straightforward plan with few things to go wrong.

With a final nod, Harry touched his finger to the student's Dark Mark. Belby, that was his name, screamed himself awake until Harry pulled his power out of him.

And with a loud _crack_, Voldemort was three feet away.

Hermione twitched the trigger by reflex.

Voldemort took the entire load of shot in the chest.

Voldemort dropped to the floor.

Hermione could see the floor through his chest.

Harry and Hermione stared at each other, jaws dropped, then looked back at Voldemort. He looked terrible. Aside from the large hole in his chest, he looked terrible. His skin was saggy and wrinkled, as if he had shrunk or his skin had grown. Besides that, he was emaciated and fragile-looking.

Harry cut off the body's head, arms, and legs, just to make sure. Most things, even magically constructed bodies, could not survive that. Hermione had been toughened by the increasingly realistic practices in the Room of Requirement, but it was hardly needed. Voldemort's body was human-shaped, but not even as man-like as the dummies all the way back in November.

Hermione had been casting what detection charms she could think of on the body. "I think this means the plan worked. He was being starved of magic and barely surviving."

"I think this means I was almost right. 'The power he knows not' was a horny girlfriend who wanted to get to a party."

"I would argue with that, but the evidence speaks for itself."

"Do you have the camera in your gear or is it back in the dorms? I want pictures in case his body disappears like they say it did when I was a baby."

"No, I didn't think of it. I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking ahead."

"No problem, Hermione. You did great, tonight and since September. Dobby! We won, Dobby. Please get Hermione's camera from her trunk. We'll have a few more things to do, but then we all take a break, have a party, whatever. Uh, what do house elves do as a reward for a job well done?"

"Elves clean, Mr Great Harry Potter Sir!"

"Uh… Right. Well, if that's what makes you happy, then you can clean whatever you want. You did a great job, Dobby. We couldn't have done this without you."

"Mr Great Harry Potter Sir is too kind. Dobby is so lucky!" The happy elf popped away and back.

"Harry, now that Voldemort is vanquished – by me, I might add – and you've set me to taking pictures for proof, you're going to answer some questions."

"Okay, shoot. Er, wait, bad thing to say to the girl who vanquished Voldemort with a shotgun. What do you want to know?"

"First of all, how do you get around and out of Hogwarts? It wasn't apparition, but it didn't feel quite like a portkey. And neither of those work within the Hogwarts wards anyway."

"It was a portkey, it just didn't feel like it to you because the trip was so short. Hogwarts's Headmaster can make portkeys that work inside the wards. I found a stash of charged but, ah, blank portkeys one night when I was going through Dumbledore's office. They were socks turned into portkeys but the destination not set. I guess Dumbledore made them up ahead of time in case he had to hand out a bunch in a hurry. So anyway, I stole a few. If I set the destination and then push power into them before using them, I can use them again later."

"Thank you for finally telling me how you did it, although your explanation raises more questions than it answers. I can guess at some of the answers, though. For instance, you were in the Headmaster's office either because you were snooping around for information he'd been keeping from you or because you were pranking him."

"Ah, both, actually. I went in to prank him, but while I was there decided to look around. I didn't find anything useful. Several journals I couldn't read and a pensieve I couldn't make work."

"We can finish the discussion later, Harry. Let's finish up here, then get back to the castle. Give me thirty minutes and then come find me for the party."

Belby was given the new dose of Draught of Living Death, Voldemort's body was photographed (including shots with Harry and Hermione posing dramatically) and then packed in plastic bags, and the one shotgun shell was picked up. "Ready? No, you aren't. Change back into your school uniform." If she had known how to develop the film herself, Hermione would have let him take those pictures of her changing clothes.

"Ready. Party time!"

**...ooo000ooo...**

Hermione was sitting near one of the outdoor flower gardens, taking in the sun and enjoying the warm Spring day, when she saw Harry escort Astoria to one of the cozy, two-person bench seats. He had separated her from her bodyguards and seemingly wanted a private chat. Hermione's sense of propriety warred with her curiosity, but she'd been in on this at the beginning and it was only fair she see the dénouement, so she discretely augmented her hearing and sank back into a shadow to enjoy the show.

"I really enjoyed this past year, Astoria. I like working with you, or against you. Whatever. Win or lose I had a good time, though of course winning was much more fun."

Astoria's tinkling laugh rippled over the garden. "Harry, when you're chatting up a young lady, you're not supposed to tell her that you enjoyed sleeping with her sister."

"Oh, of course. I'll tell Hermione that the next time she takes on someone as his life coach, she should mention that." The two shared a private smile.

"Harry, we've both benefitted from Hermione's plan. I'm well on the way to being ready to take on the incompetents in the Ministry. 'Minister Greengrass'. You'd better start practicing saying that with a smile."

"Yes, Ma'am. I mean, yes, Minister Greengrass."

"I'm not ready quite yet. After all, it won't be until October that I turn sixteen, the minimum legal age for many types of commitment. I need a bit more practice in plotting and manipulation and subjecting my enemies to a humiliating defeat. And of course I need a suitable opponent. An opponent who would be interested in a life-long adversarial relationship."

"Are you suggesting…?"

"I am. Harry, shall I ask my father to approach you to begin marriage negotiations?"

**Author's Notes:**

I do know Morse Code, but FFN converted the four dots (H) into three dots (S) and I got tired of wrestling with it before I managed to get four dots to display. If you don't know Morse Code or didn't notice where I used it, don't worry about it. (Except that now I've gotten it in your head and you can't help but look for where it is.)

Yes, Voldy's end was quick and easy. That's realistic, in my experience. If you train properly for a difficult and dangerous job and are just a little bit lucky in the execution, the training is more difficult than the job.

I left a _lot_ of dangling plot threads and plot holes. This was purely intentional, to leave openings for a possible sequel. Not saying there ever will be one or when I'll write it, but the hooks are there and I have a few ideas for the plot.

**Omakes**

**Omake: Pet Draco**

Hermione considered Malfoy as he stood there, ineffectually fuming. It came as something of a surprise to her to realize that he was actually sort of cute. Perhaps after Harry won she would take Malfoy as a pet, a useless but ornamental thing to have running around the house.

She'd have to have him neutered, of course. It would settle his disposition and make him more pleasant to keep around. She also _really_ didn't want to have him humping her leg. And, worst case, if he wasn't "fixed" he might pass his obviously defective genes along if he could find someone who would allow him to share them with her. No, that would not do. Neutering her pet would be best for everyone.

**...ooo000ooo...**

**Omake: Dominatrix**

Hermione was waiting for Harry when he came to the Room of Requirement for the daily workout.

"Morning, Hermione. Ready f–"

"Silence! Get on your knees while I give you your instructions."

Harry looked puzzled, but complied. Over the months, several of her training instructions hadn't made sense until afterward.

"Today's lesson is on discipline and obedience. You will speak only when spoken to, you will carry out my every command without delay, and you will address me as Mistress Hermione."

"What? _Ouch!_" Hermione had charmed her riding crop to deliver a sting up to six feet away.

"Silence! You are already breaking the rules." Hermione shrugged out of the school robes she'd worn to the Room. Harry's eyes bugged out at the black leather she was wearing – or barely wearing.

"It took me a while to realize that you weren't simply joking about dominatrix costumes but asking me to do something for you. It's not something I'd normally do, but you're my best friend, so I'll give you what you need."

The two made it to the Great Hall in time to eat breakfast with their classmates. As usual, their workout had left them both sweaty, sore, and drained. The workouts didn't usually leave Hermione with an enormous grin, and Harry was normally able to sit down for breakfast.

**...ooo000ooo...**

**Omake: Malfoy Ghosts**

Three ghostly shapes coalesced near Harry in the library when he was trying to work.

"Why did you kill us?" asked the one which had hair swirled into a rough, upward-pointing cone.

"What did we ever do to you?" asked the one which was squished flat.

The ghost without head or arms couldn't talk or even point accusingly, but it made several sharp movements which didn't get her point across but did emphasize that she'd died without any clothes.

Harry went for days with the three Whinging Wraiths following his every movement before he thought of selling tickets to Muggle-born students as a sideshow display of just how pathetic purebloods were. The humiliated ghosts departed on their own without needing to be exorcized.

**...ooo000ooo...**

**Omake: Harry Peeper**

A pair of ghostly shapes coalesced near Harry in the library.

"Oh, dammit, not again!"

"Son," the male-ish shape moaned, "we are so disappointed in you."

"Why? I'm fighting the man who killed you, I'm sleeping with three girls, and I'm even doing well in school. What more do you want?"

"You are breaking the family tradition. All of the Potters for centuries have used the family cloak to peep at girls. Why do you think you received that great gift? If it weren't for peeping, you'd never have been born. Your mother wasn't much to look at until sixth year, then wowzers. They popped out like nobody's business."

The female-ish shape swatted at the male-ish shape's head, then seemed frustrated when she couldn't make contact.

"And now you've even learned to turn invisible without the cloak. You owe it to the family tradition to sneak into the girls' shower rooms and look for the best possible bride. You had the one who had popped out the most, but you let her get away. I'm very disappointed in you."

**...ooo000ooo...**

**Omake: Trophy**

"I hesitate to ask, but why did you take Bellatrix's head?"

"She was in Azkaban almost fifteen years but she was still a beautiful woman. Now I've got something to keep me occupied when you have a headache, and it's easier to store her head in my trunk than her whole body."


End file.
